No Choice
by Daughter Of The Revolution
Summary: Russian mob boss Ivan Braginsky isn't denied anything; if he wants the American boy to join him for a candlelit evening then he will, if he wants the American boy to share his bed then he will. College student Alfred F. Jones has no choice in the matter whatsoever. RusAme
1. No Choice

**Daughter Of The Revolution****: Look who's getting sidetracked and not doing the things she needs to be doing. Yep, that's right, this authoress, right here. Well, thought about this oneshot at work and when I got home wrote this down right away. I just wanted porn, okay!**

**Warnings Include:**

**Forced Relationship**

**Dubcon**

* * *

Alfred never did anyone any wrong. He was a good boy, had been since the day he came out of his mother. So his confusion was understandable when he had been grabbed off the sidewalk after walking home from night classes.

So many thoughts ran through his head as he sat there curled in the seat he'd been forced in. He was blind folded and, after a struggle and showing his kidnappers how strong his lungs were, bound and gagged. He wanted to cry, but heroes don't cry—still, he sure as hell wanted to!

What had he done? He couldn't think of anything, nothing. What did these men want from him? Money? He was flat broke from classes and his family were just your average middle class family. Plus, he was certain that he wasn't related to some infamous spy or anything.

Alfred was innocent, completely innocent. They had to have nabbed the wrong guy. Just had to!

When the car stopped and hands flew to him again, dragging him out, Alfred cried, he literally cried. He was going to die, was going to be one of those cold cases, he just knew it. He'd be sleeping with the fishes soon, and he didn't know why. God, why him?!

He jumped when he felt himself shoved into a room and there were more hands on him to steady him. When he felt someone untie his hands and then hold his wrists still only to begin pulling off his hoodie and shirt he felt a cold chill encase his body. What were they doing to him? The feeling of his belt ripping from his pants startled Alfred even more and his handlers weren't too gentle when they set to the task of shimmying him out of his jeans.

God, what were they doing?!

His arms were stretched and when his ankles were grabbed to keep him from kicking Alfred swallowed hard. Were they going to rape him? Oh God, what if he was going to get raped? No! No, no, no, no!

His struggles intensified right then and there. He was decently strong and managed to knock a few of his captors loose, but that only antagonized them. More came and held him down. His fight to be free only ended when a particularly strong man backhanded him. Alfred's cheek burned and his jaw ached from the impact.

He whimpered and instead trembled in their grasps. Alfred couldn't explain why this was happening to him. He was a good son, always obeyed his mother and father—well there were some occasions where he had gotten a little rowdy, but what teenager hadn't?—he was an excellent big brother, just ask his little brother, Mattie, did he ever grow up with a bully? No, because big brother Alfred always fought them off. He was polite to the ladies, respected his elders, always courteous of strangers, and treated foreigners kindly to make them feel welcome.

Literally, Alfred F. Jones was the perfect human being.

Yet there he was, taken just a block away from campus, stripped and bound . . . like a common criminal. His luck had run out, had to be. It was just time injustice claimed its next innocent victim, and that victim just so happened to be him.

Pulled back to the reality around him, Alfred's eyes widened underneath the blindfold. Fabric was being slid onto him, he felt a shirt at first, a silky shirt at that, and then he felt pants shoot up his legs. A jacket, another belt, new socks and even shoes. He had almost calmed hadn't something wrapped around his neck that nearly gave him a heart attack.

He released his breath when he felt the long piece was nothing but a tie. A tie?

Dabs of cologne just under his neck and then a comb running through his hair to straighten whatever stray lock was tussled in his struggle with his captors. He was then pulled around again, back into a car with an overwhelming smell of rich leather, and then he was pushed out again.

His kidnappers brought him to some place, he didn't know where. They spoke a funny language. But Alfred was certain he was inside a building now.

Push, push, push until his knees bumped into a . . . a . . . table? His hands immediately reached out to feel and only managed to skim over soft table cloth when firm hands grasped his shoulders and guided him over to the left. The press forced him to sit and the moment he landed in his chair the blindfold was taken from him.

At first the dark room was just that—dark. He blinked and squinted his eyes until the light from the three candles in front of him showed him the outlines of objects and . . .

His eyes widened when he took in the room, but mostly when they landed on the person seated just across from him at the small dining table.

"M-Mr. Braginsky?"

It was Mr. Braginsky. Alfred knew his regular anywhere. The older man came to the little Italian restaurant Alfred worked at every day for lunch. It came to the point where Alfred didn't have to take his order anymore, just told the cooks to make his usual favorite. Serving drinks and breadsticks was all Alfred had to do with him. And, damn, did he tip good.

But the question was what he was doing there. Alfred blinked in confusion before glancing around, trying to catch any sight of his captors.

Slowly, leaning over the table he asked, "Were-Were you taken too, Mr. Braginsky?"

The laugh that followed the question really did confuse Alfred, and if he hadn't been near blind as a bat without his glasses he might have caught the sight of the smirk splayed across the man's face after his chuckle died down.

"Nyet," Mr. Braginsky answered. Oh, that was right, Mr. Braginsky was Russian, moved to America some years back if Alfred recalled. Come to think of it . . . that funny language his captors spoke sounded an awful lot like the language he always used to stupefy Alfred with when he waited on him. "This is my home, Alfred."

Home? Alfred blinked again and turned to take in his surroundings. With the dim lighting and no glasses to see perfect he couldn't make out much, but from the shapes of various objects and the style of the décor he figured it was a pretty nice place—after all, Mr. Braginsky was always seen in a nice suit when he dined in for lunch.

Turning back to the Russian, Alfred took note of the dining ware and the nice looking plates. His hands moved a little further from the nice dishware and then he noticed his own sleeves. He was wearing a jacket alright, a very nice and expensive looking jacket. Raising his hands he even noticed the cufflinks—holy shit! They were diamond!

With wide eyes he looked down at his body and took in the perfectly fitted suit. His captors must have taken him to a tailor or something because what he was wearing snug him in all the right places and—reaching up Alfred touched his hair, sure enough it had been combed to look presentable.

"I do hope you were not sentimentally attached to your wardrobe earlier, but, since this is an evening date I saw it fit to adorn you in attire befitting the occasion." When Mr. Braginsky said that Alfred felt his jaw slacken.

"Wait . . . you . . . did all this?" The fact that the man had mentioned "date" hadn't even registered in Alfred's jumbled mind yet.

"Da." Mr. Braginsky chuckled a little. His smile was pleasant enough, but that didn't stop Alfred from trembling at all the suggestions of such a notion.

Alfred just didn't know what to say. He went rigid at the confession, his eyes continuously blinking in startled confusion. The motion alerted Mr. Braginsky and when he moved out of his seat and came toward him, Alfred found himself pressing his back into his chair. His heart leapt in his chest when the man reached into his jacket and pulled something out.

"You see much better with these on, da?" There, held out before Alfred, was what looked like his missing glasses. Alfred squinted his eyes for a moment before the frames moved closer and he found them being placed on his face. The way Mr. Braginsky returned the glasses was very tender and Alfred couldn't stop from staring up at him when he did this, especially when he could see better.

The Russian's touch stayed longer than necessary, but Alfred didn't say anything to it. He was too afraid to. But the near quiet hiss that escaped through his teeth informed the older male of his condition. The frame of the glasses brushed against his injured cheek and immediately Mr. Braginsky frowned.

He leaned forward a little, examining the wound. The tips of his gloved fingers traced the forming bruise before he backed away and turned on his heel to return to his seat. He sat quickly, huffed out an annoyed sigh before he called in someone. Alfred had never seen this man before, but the wonder if this character was one of the men who nabbed him did run through his mind in silence.

Mr. Braginsky said something to the man in Russian. The other nodded before leaving the both of them alone. The frown unsettled Alfred, egging him to squirm in his seat.

"Uh, ch-champagne, sir?" Alfred turned and noticed a waiter holding out a decently sized bottle. He offered it to Mr. Braginsky first and immediately Alfred observed the way his persona changed, pulling out a smile for the waiter and his present guest.

"Ah, nyet, just vodka for me, Toris. Why don't you see if Alfred would like some?" Mr. Braginsky's smile seemed pleasant, but there was just some aura about him that had Alfred on the edge of his seat—literally.

When the servant scurried over to Alfred the blond looked up at the offered bottle. "I don't dri—" Out of the corner of his eye he glanced toward Mr. Braginsky. There wasn't in particular anything offensive about his features or mannerisms, but after Alfred's current predicament his gut churned at the slightest thought of denying him anything. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I'll take some."

Alfred didn't touch his drink. Didn't really say anything. His brain was finally working properly though and everything that had happened to him and what was said of it were finally being pieced together.

"You're unusually quiet." Alfred looked up toward Mr. Braginsky who was leaning forward on the table, elbows touching near his plate and chin leaning on his folded hands. "Why, at Vargas' restaurant only food can act as a means to shut you up."

Alfred knew it was rude but he couldn't bring himself to look at the older man. He was just unnerved . . . frightened of all the possibilities running in his head.

"Well, you would be too, sir, if you were grabbed after classes and roughed up before being taken to God-knows-where." Once, Alfred looked up once and met Mr. Braginsky's gaze. He immediately regretted it, the man was frowning.

A sigh left the Russian's lips as he pushed away from the table and leaned back in his chair. "I am sorry my men weren't following the proper orders set out. Trust me when I say it will not happen again."

Great, so did that mean the next time Alfred was snatched off the street they'd treat him with tenderness and fluff? God, what the hell was going on?

"What . . ." Alfred closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled a steadying breath just to calm his nerves. "What do you do?" He could think of a couple million ideas.

Mr. Braginsky just smiled at him. "Ah, now we are progressing. I am a business man, Alfred, I own a chain of various businesses throughout this city and a few others. I wouldn't want to bore you with needless detail."

Alfred swallowed and nodded his head. "Is there . . . is there a reason why I'm here, Mr. Braginsky?" Again, Alfred looked at Mr. Braginsky.

"Please, call me Ivan," Mr. Braginsky recommended. "I thought you were a bright young man, Alfred. This is a date."

When Alfred swallowed again it was harder, much harder with a dry mouth and throat. So, this was how the mysterious Mr. Braginsky caught his eyed partners. Understandable. Alfred hadn't placed that one on the table, but he sure will now.

What did he do to catch his eye? Yeah he was friendly to him, he was friendly with all his customers. Alfred was server of the month several times and the bosses loved him. He hadn't meant to put himself out to anyone. Definitely wasn't looking for a relationship right out of high school, God no.

Thinking diligently Alfred scanned his thoughts. He tried to think of what he had done to give Mr. Braginsky any sort of idea that wasn't meant to be. He honestly couldn't think of anything he did except provide some small talk and sometimes sit with him when he was on his break. Nothing much.

He then scanned his thinking process deeper, trying to think of the times Mr. Braginsky had shown any signs of attraction. Hell, he thought the man was married at this age, or at least had a girl of high class and high taste. Sure, Mr. Braginsky tipped him favorably—if Alfred wasn't working during Mr. Braginsky's usual visits he usually tipped less—there were a few times Alfred had caught the older man staring at him from over his drink which made Alfred always assume he had some blotching stain on his uniform or forgot to wipe off food from his face, all of those usual thoughts.

He just . . . he hadn't known Mr. Braginsky had taken a fancy to him. It didn't make any sense at all. Alfred wasn't rich, he was a college student and barely managed to get good grades, he was young, God much too young for Mr. Braginsky. Looks wise Alfred would say he, himself, was average. He didn't date much in high school so he assumed his ranking average or low among the ladies.

Why? Why him?

"Why?" Alfred's eyes were fixated on his plate set before him—dinner had yet to arrive, if that's what they were waiting for. "Why do you want . . . me?"

There was a silence before Alfred finally rose his gaze. When he looked at Mr. Braginsky—Ivan, the man just sat there, smiling at him, as if observing an interesting painting or sculpture of some sort. He looked that fascinated by him, which made absolutely no sense to Alfred.

"I enjoy your presence," Ivan answered Alfred's question. "I'm a man of solitude. I don't like many people, and many people don't like me. But, you're one of the few I can tolerate and so I opted to invite you here."

Alfred was crying inside—crying. He'd already figured by now that Ivan was some sort of a mob boss, had to be. God, it was the freakin' Russian mafia. Why? WHY ALFRED?!

Dinner setting down before him pulled Alfred away from his thoughts. He eyed the dishes curiously and when he looked up toward Ivan he watched him thank the servers as they left and then pull out the cloth napkin and set it down on his lap the fancy way. Ivan caught him staring and motioned to the food.

"Is good," he promised. "Eat, you'll like it."

Alfred didn't have any issue with eating. Looking down at the dishes they looked so good and . . . expensive. When Ivan began eating so to encourage him he knew it wasn't poisoned—or at least he didn't think it was.

It's just . . . how could he eat in a situation like this?

"Go ahead, eat," Ivan once again encouraged. Alfred looked at him and wondered if the man even noticed he hadn't taken one sip from the champagne offered . . . he didn't drink alcohol, was kinda too young for that.

Looking back down at his food Alfred sighed. What the hell, it was only a dinner date. Maybe if he ate fast enough he'd be released. He really wanted to get out of the place and back to his springy mattress at the dorms—he never thought he'd miss that bed so much in his life.

Reaching out Alfred attempted to grab a fork, if he had known which _one_ to grab. There were multiple knives, forks, and spoons. Man!

Ivan had seemed to have caught his struggle and smiled. "Outside ones first, Fredka."

Alfred looked up at him and blinked at the . . . was that a nickname? Shaking his head he turned back to the task at hand and picked up the fork the farthest from the plate and used it as necessary. Both ate quietly, and while Alfred wanted to just scarf everything down and be done with it so he could be returned home he was oddly taking his time, chewing and chewing and chewing.

"I hope you are ready for desert. I know how much you like sweet things," Ivan spoke up, completely ignoring the fact that Alfred had hardly even touched his main dish.

Alfred stilled when the servers came in and began collecting the plates and then set down the desert. It looked appetizing, but Alfred was a little more concerned with if he'd ever get home than with nulling his sweet tooth.

"Will I be returned back to my dorm soon, Mr. Bra—" Alfred caught himself just in time to see that frown appear on the Russian's face. "Ivan," Alfred corrected, hoping he said the name right. "I've got work tomorrow, and—"

"Nyet, you do not," Ivan informed. "You are off work tomorrow."

Damn it. Alfred bit his bottom lip. "Yeah, well I have tons of exams to study for and—"

"Testing is not due for a few more weeks," Ivan stumped Alfred's excuses again. Violet eyes then met blue. "You have plenty of time to study." His smile afterwards just flat out disturbed the American. "I'm certain you'll make good grades."

Alfred's never felt like a prisoner in his life. But constantly he reminded himself that the night was young and after desert he'd likely be set free. No one wanted to keep an annoying brat like him around for very long, and he was certain Ivan wouldn't either.

Pulling out a smile that was a lot harder to keep than remembered. Alfred spoke saying, "Well, uh, this was nice, the dinner and all." Okay, so he was a little unnerved when he pulled Ivan's attention to him again, those amethyst eyes just froze him right on the spot, such an authoritative stare. "The whole evening was nice. I said to myself that I needed a little treat after all the hard work I've done as of late, so, uh, thanks for this." Small talk really was hard when it was so forced and . . . awkward. "Oh, and thanks for the new garb and all." Alfred glanced down at his clothing. "But it's a little too nice for me, I'm sure the tailor and the jewelers will want these back."

"They are yours to keep," Ivan announced. "I would appreciate it that you do."

"Oh, yeah, sure, if you're cool with that." Alfred chuckled nervously. What the hell was he supposed to do with a couple hundred dollar suit? "Don't really know when I'll bust this outfit out again though." He chuckled again, worrying that the hitches at the end alerted Ivan to his panic.

"You can wear it again when you go out with me," Ivan suggested, or maybe subtly demanded.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Alfred found himself nodding and yet in another awkward silence. He really needed an excuse to bolt but they were all shot down. Think, think, think. Looking around he tried to find a clock of some sort. Ah, there one was, nice looking grandfather clock. "Eh, it's getting late. I know I'm keeping you up, Ivan. Don't want to intrude."

"Rest assured you are not," Ivan said after pushing his finished dish out of the way.

"Oh, well, good to know." Alfred sighed and watched yet again as the servers came in and took up his dishes, his unfinished and untouched dishes. Finally he felt safer to frown. "Are you . . . am I going to be brought back to the dorms? I can't think of a reason why you'd want to trouble yourself with me any more than necessary." Alfred offered a silly smile but Ivan's own unique smile really did dampen his mood.

"As I've stated before, your presence eases me," Ivan assured, setting down his silverware and pushing his cloth napkin back onto the table. "And do not worry, I will make sure you return to your living space, but that will be after the sex."

Alfred choked on his own spit, wasn't easy to swallow with the dry throat. Wide eyes stared at Ivan, not caring if he came off offensive for such displays of appalling. It was just . . . just . . . WHAT?!

His jaw hung so loosely that his mouth opened to reveal his outward shock. It was clear he was physically trembling now, especially when the servers came out and began removing everything from the table, the glasses, the candles, and other decorations. Now nothing was in between he and Ivan and that Russian just stared at him, he stared at Alfred like he hadn't taken one bite of his dinner previous and was starving.

They didn't sit for very long at the cleared table. Ivan stood and as he approached Alfred the younger's resolve began to shake. His hands fell into his lap the moment Ivan held out his own hand to coax him to stand.

Alfred just sat. He sat and stared at Ivan's gloved hand and then up at the man.

"Come, Alfred." Those eyes just seemed to glow so unnaturally. Alfred was frightened. He didn't know where Ivan was going to take him next, well he had an idea, but he wasn't a hundred percent certain.

What would happen if Alfred rejected Ivan? Said, "no," to him? Alfred was certain that would piss Mr. Braginsky off and no doubt land him at the bottom of some river. This was a life or death situation here!

So Alfred had no choice but to reach out and place his strong hand in Ivan's stronger grip. Ivan pulled him to his feet and tugged him along, the dining room and all its bearings forgotten. Maybe if Alfred hadn't been so scared he would have enjoyed looking at the rest of the home as he was lead through room and hall and up flights of stairs.

Maybe if he hadn't been so close to pissing his pants then Alfred would have noticed the sheer size of Ivan's room and all the lavish furnish therein, but he hadn't because the feel of Ivan's lips took all thought from things unimportant or irrelevant to Alfred's situation away. Tears pricked at the corner of Alfred's eyes at the feel of the surprisingly soft mouth of Ivan as the man leaned down behind him after leading him into the room and gifted his neck with a kiss.

The soft click of the bedroom door rung in Alfred's ears so loudly he was going deaf. The only other sound he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. When another kiss was placed on his neck, this one a little higher than the last one, Alfred's breath hitched.

But Alfred stood there, it was all he could do. He simply didn't have the power nor the balls to stand up to Ivan, not after realizing all he could do to him or even the people he cared about.

A tear did slip down his cheek when a gloved hand reached up and gently caressed his neck, subtly pulling it to the side so Ivan's lips could have more access to that tanned neck of Alfred's. With the larger man standing right behind him all Alfred wanted to do was make a run for it, but running meant moving forward and moving forward meant closing in toward the bed and . . . God!

Alfred had taken in the bed of the room at least. His heart sinking after realizing that would be his final destination. It was a large canopy bed, dark red sheets, oak posts and headboard.

Inhaling a shaking breath Alfred closed his eyes, willing himself to just wish this all away. He hadn't asked for this, in no way had he put himself out. What had he done? He couldn't think of anything, anything at all and yet there he was . . . on the verge of losing his virginity.

Alfred's never been with a man before. In fact, he only had one girlfriend all of his last two years of high school. Lien . . . yeah, he missed her. After graduation they had a huge fight and she left him. Was a shame, he really thought he might have loved his high school sweetheart.

He'd last heard of her—

"Ah," Alfred gasped out when he felt teeth rake down his neck. He shivered from the touch and when he felt Ivan wrap his arms around him only to begin unbuttoning his coat he paled. He wanted to reach up and stop those hands, but just feeling them work on his out layer of clothing and their demand in movement when they began pulling the coat off, Alfred just did nothing . . . absolutely nothing like the loser he was.

_Come on, damn it, Jones, pull yourself together! Heroes don't just let others run all over them!_ Alfred's inner conscious shouted at him. But at the same time that smart voice at the back of his head said in reason, _Just what can I do? He's a fucking mob boss. If I say no then there goes me and everyone that knows me. I have no say, no choice in anything!_

When the jacket dropped Alfred was turned around. He gulped when Ivan took hold of his tie and warily tightened it, pulling at the loose end. Alfred's wide eyes looked up at him with immense worry, but Ivan simply smiled and tugged on the tie once more, pulling Alfred into a kiss.

Alfred's eyes squeezed shut and the contact had his lips pressing together so quick they hardened. The kiss would definitely not be enjoyable to the other partner with Alfred scrunching up like that. Ivan didn't seem to mind however when he pulled back and offered Alfred a relaxed smile.

The tie was gone fast and when it came to unbuttoning the smaller buttons on Alfred's dress shirt, why, Ivan's gloves had to go. Alfred opened his eyes at the pause of touch and noticed Ivan had raised his hand to his mouth where his teeth bit into the leather glove and pulled it off. This was Alfred's first time seeing Ivan's bare hands.

He couldn't take his eyes off of them, even as they reached forward and began unbuttoning the smaller buttons of his dress shirt. The knuckles, the fingers; they were covered in tattoos. Many bore words that he couldn't understand.

Alfred had been so transfixed on the ink he hadn't noticed that his dress shirt had been properly opened, and exploring hands parted the folds, pressing coolly against his abdominal muscles. He jumped from the feel and looked back toward Ivan who simply smiled, rubbing, admiring the feel of developing muscle. When his hands padded up over pectorals his thumbs rubbed over dusty pink nipples. Alfred jumped again and wondered if it was from the touch or just the coolness of Ivan's large hands.

Even if Alfred felt his reactions were less than pleasing Ivan didn't seem to mind, in fact, his smile grew the more he rubbed against Alfred's chest. His own gaze scanning every inch of skin revealed to him, marveling at him even.

"You're as warm as I felt you would be," Ivan spoke as his hands grasped Alfred's ribcage and pulled him closer, letting the boy's chest touch his own. "Mmm, sitting next to you I could feel the heat, but now that you're closer, skin pressing again mine, you're the flame I knew you to be."

Ivan leaned down and pressed his mouth to Alfred's neck again. Alfred struggled to not push away. He might have been subconsciously doing just that from the feel of Ivan's hands grasping him a little uncomfortably tighter.

"Mr. Braginsky." Alfred hadn't meant it to sound like a whine, but it may have just come out like that. "I-Ivan, please . . . I've never done this before."

Ivan pulled his mouth away from ravishing Alfred's neck and looked down at the boy with acknowledgment. "Da, I know," he informed, to which Alfred's eyes widened. Just how did he know something as personal as that? "You kept to sports in school and only ever dated once, a female at that."

"H-How did you know all of that?" Alfred felt his insides freeze in wondering how long Mr. Braginsky had been an admirer, or if he had just . . .

Ivan leaned forward and kissed Alfred softly. The dumbfounded expression on the American left room for soft pliable lips that Ivan thoroughly enjoyed for a few seconds. When he pulled away his fingers traced the supple lips, his eyes following their movement.

"I do extensive research before I decide on a mate," Ivan informed.

Alfred was too thrown back by how much this . . . practical stranger knew about him to even comprehend what words were coming out of Ivan's mouth. "Mate?"

The hand tracing Alfred's lips dipped, instead cupping his jaw and tilting his head back just slightly for Ivan to lean down and connect their lips in a deeper kiss. The kiss distracted Alfred enough for Ivan to slip him out of his dress shirt, leaving it fluttering to the floor, uncaring if it wrinkled or stained. The chill of the room, however, alerted Alfred to his nakedness.

He shivered. His arms rose to wrap around himself, but Ivan had him pulled so close that all his arms could do was wrap around Ivan's frame and hug him for warmth. Alfred hadn't meant to encourage, but it seemed that was exactly what happened.

The kiss deepened at that, well, until Alfred's glasses pressed awkwardly into Ivan's nose. The man darted back and sighed in annoyance at the lenses. He reached up, took off the offending object and set it aside. Alfred was glad he at least set it on a nightstand instead of haphazardly dropping it to the floor like the rest of his clothing.

After the glasses were out of the way Alfred's world turned fuzzy again. Damn his bad eyesight, but then again, this wasn't such a bad thing, considering what was happening to him now.

Ivan seemed to take note of this. His hands reached forward, cupping Alfred's face and pulling him closer. "Can you see me?" he questioned, his eyes paying close attention to the way Alfred's own irises and pupils focused and unfocused. Closer he leaned again. "Can you see me, Alfred?" The squinting of Alfred's eyes didn't cease and so one more time he leaned forward, his nose rubbing against Alfred's freckled cheek. "Fredka, can you see me?"

Ivan must have seen the way Alfred's eyes focused. His smile was more than pleased even at finding out the length of Alfred's sight.

The Russian chuckled, nodding his head. "Da, then I shall stay this close, dorogoy."

Lips clashed again and this time Alfred felt the pressing urge from the other. Slowly, Ivan was losing his gentle side. Alfred hadn't been ready for this kiss actually, so he nearly choked from lack of air as it was stolen by the older man . . . God, just how old was Ivan?

When the backs of his knees hit something soft and he fell backwards with a yelp, Alfred had realized he had been moving, been subtly pushed and guided by Ivan back toward the bed. But no matter what, Alfred didn't fall onto his back, his arms reached back and planted themselves firmly on the mattress. His eyes wide and lips parted and swollen as he looked up at Ivan who stood near him, knees touching his own.

Alfred should have tried something, rolled to the side or jumped around Ivan to run for the door, but he just sat there berating himself for failed mental escape scenarios. Each one ended in him dead. He just couldn't risk his own safety . . . if he wasn't already by submitting to the wretched man.

So he sat there, eyes wide and observing Ivan reach up and unbutton his own long jacket. He wore a gray vest underneath and a white dress shirt. The ascot actually wasn't even an ascot, but some sort of scarf, the loose ends hung against his chest when his vest was disrobed.

When he began unbuttoning his dress shirt Alfred swallowed hard. Tattoos, more of them, all over Ivan's chest and arms. Alfred didn't doubt that they covered his back as well. Yeah, he was definitely right about him being in the Russian mob without Ivan outwardly saying it.

The American caught sight of weird markings on the Russian's neck when he unwrapped his scarf, folded it and set it aside. Alfred was squinting his eyes just to see what they were. He thought at first they were tattoos but he wasn't quite sure.

The jingle of a belt buckle had Alfred's eyes darting down toward Ivan's hands and their grip on the older man's belt that was too quickly undone and the fly unzipped. Alfred swallowed hard once more and found himself slowly scooting back on the bed, trying to inch away from the Russian as much as he could. Ivan seemed to have caught onto his movement however and reached out, looping his fingers into the boy's belt and pulling Alfred back by his hips.

An unmanly squeak left Alfred's mouth, he'll admit that. He hadn't expected Ivan to suddenly reach out and drag him back to the edge of the bed. His arms supporting him slipped from the movement and now Alfred felt vulnerable lying there on his back, looking up at Ivan as the older took to the task of unbuckling his pants.

The zipper hardly made a sound—was very nice pants—but that didn't mean it didn't ring in Alfred's ears like the sirens of an emergency vehicle. Alfred was shaking again. He could feel those large hands on his hips and when one slipped lower, fingers slipping into his opened fly to his boxers he gasped.

He should have swatted that hand away for touching him there. It was private and certainly not for someone like Ivan to touch. God, he was getting molested!

Alfred had thought he had let out a sigh, but the tone was too deep. His eyes flicked up to see Ivan had closed his own eyes, letting a sigh escape his lips. His hand did not move, but simply laid on Alfred's crotch perhaps just to feel the warmth.

The movement eventually came. It came when Ivan opened his eyes and stared into Alfred's own, a shade darker, more dangerous. Slowly he applied pressure before Alfred choked at the circular motions meant to stimulate him.

Only one other person's touched his dick before, and he knew that she would be the only one to make him melt at her touch. But, if that were true, then how . . .

Alfred's eyes widened when Ivan slipped his hand into his boxers and pulled him out. He couldn't believe it—he was hard! Or, at least getting there. Alfred's lips parted in disbelief and when his eyes darted back toward Ivan he watched a pleased—and, was that relief?—grin splay across his lips.

A few squeezes and pressure in spots Alfred hadn't even known to be that sensitive at and he was pulsing in Ivan's hand. It felt weird, because Ivan had such big hands and a strong grip. The tighter he gripped the more the pulsing pleasure surged electricity through his body and he shivered at the sensation.

His ex had such small hands, thin fingers as well. She was good and all, but when Ivan squeezed him . . . oh . . .

Alfred's head fell back, cranking at the way his skull hung and bumped against his shoulders. His lips parted and eyes dilated. Yes, oh, yes that felt fucking amazing!

To a horror that came too late Alfred pressed against that hand, wanting him to squeeze him tighter. Ivan did not, instead he released Alfred and the moan escaping his lips nearly turned into a whine of dismay hadn't Alfred caught himself. Dear Lord, what was he thinking acting like that?!

That strong hand of Ivan's that had been wrapped around Alfred's cock just a moment ago now cupped the boy's jaw, pulling him forward to press into a kiss. Alfred still refused to kiss back. Ivan never dejected to his refusal.

Sound of protest did come out of Alfred's mouth eventually, but it was muffled, swallowed up by the Russian who refused to let go of his mouth just as he slid his hands down back into Alfred's pants, and in their descent the article slipped with them. When Ivan pulled his mouth away he pulled himself away, pulling at the pants and undergarments all slipping down Alfred's thighs.

"No, please!" Alfred gasped out, quickly pulling himself away just as the pants were tugged from his ankles. He was shaking, already having wrapped his arms around his legs and pressed himself near the headboard of the bed. "Please, Mr. B-Braginsky."

Ivan sighed, pushing the pants aside and then reaching forward, pressing his fingers to Alfred's lips to silence him. "Call me Ivan. I will give you that luxury."

This was not happening, no, just couldn't be. Alfred's head began shaking, tears bubbling up in the corner of his eyes making his irises shine, fascinating the older male more by the second.

"No, please, I'm not . . . I'm not ready, I can't—"

"Of course you are or else I would not have invited you here," Ivan replied. But that didn't seem to calm Alfred one bit. A tear slipped down and his face dipped downward, pressing against the palms of his hands as his shoulders shook.

A startled gasp escaped Alfred's mouth when a calloused hand wrapped around the back of his neck and held the base of his skull like the head of a puppet, grasping, pushing and pulling. Ivan had tugged him back over to him, forcing him to look at him and see that frightening frown of his.

"Do not cry. Little children cry, and you are not, da?"

No matter what, Alfred trembled in Ivan's grasp. God, he should have tried to run for it. Ending up at the bottom of a ravine didn't sound so bad right about now.

The smile threw Alfred off, especially when fingers combed through his hair, petting his scalp and then rubbing his cheek, minding of his bruised one.

"This is your first time. It is understanding to be nervous." Strangely, Alfred felt that Ivan took to heart his unease. Maybe. When the Russian caressed his neck it did seem to have a small effect in relaxing him. "I will be gentle, ease yourself."

Alfred was most definitely not relaxed, however when Ivan held his gaze something strange happened. He couldn't look away. Their gazes melded and Alfred could feel the commands in those amethyst irises. He stopped crying when those demanding eyes so commanded, he eased his strained muscles when those demanding eyes so commanded. Now he was laying underneath Ivan, his hands pressing against those tattooed shoulders but not pressing away, their gazes still locked.

The strange hypnotic effect seemed to have distracted Alfred enough for Ivan to fully undress himself. They were pressed close to each other now, skin on skin, and Ivan's hand, lathered in warm oil was rubbing him again, squeezing just the way Alfred liked it. The pressure broke the gazing spell just as Alfred's eyes fluttered shut and a moan echoed deep in his throat.

When Ivan's fingers pinched and twisted the skin on Alfred's cockhead he threw his head back into the pillows underneath him and mewled. His hips already began to buck into that skilled hand and the shame for standing so erect for someone he shouldn't have was delayed. His legs spread in appreciation for the touch, an action which Ivan had been waiting for.

Alfred had pressed his own knuckles against his lips and shook with pleasure and shame. His eyes closed as tight as possible. He didn't want to see how Ivan looked at him. Alfred's never felt so ashamed in his life. He felt like some goddamn whore and inwardly cursed himself for wanting more.

When warm liquid poured down his torso Alfred's eyes opted to open. Ivan had pulled away from him slightly, holding a glass bottle in hand full of that warm oil. When enough of the substance was poured Ivan placed the bottle down on the lampstand next to the bed and pressed back down onto Alfred.

His arms framed Alfred's body, elbows pressing into the sheets to anchor him as he traced his lips down Alfred's chest and abdomen. Where his mouth kissed and sucked his hands were, rubbing, spreading the oil as if he were lathering Alfred like the polishing of a bronzed statue. The oil felt nice, and when combined with the almost loving kisses, well . . .

Alfred's had sex before, with his old girlfriend that is. Senior prom. It's just, their roles were reversed. He was the one over her, kissing her, rubbing her thighs. Everything Ivan was doing to him was just . . . it wasn't natural to him and he trembled. Trembled just like Lien had that night.

Sucking in, Alfred held his breath when Ivan's warm exhales teetered close to his thighs. Oil slicked hands rubbed the muscles there before inch by inch they began rubbing inside, applying just the slightest of pressure to spread easily. Ivan was good. He was a very experienced lover, his methods were near ingenious, but Alfred was still biting at all of his nerves if only for situation's sake.

He wondered if perhaps Ivan would have gotten to know him a little better the normal way—through talking—and then in time formally asked him out to a date, what would Alfred have done? He'd never been with a man, much less thought about being with one far older than him—he knew Ivan was probably in his late thirties, just had to be. If things would have progressed like that, would he had felt better, about all this, about Ivan—scratching that he was a mob boss—about his presence, his smiles, the way he touched him, about sex?

Well, Alfred would never know what an opportunity like that would be like. It was already a done deal now, not taking anything back . . . like Alfred could.

"Hhuh!" Alfred's neck went rigid and he forgot how to breathe for a moment when he felt a thick wet tongue drag itself up the underside of his cock. On instinct his legs spread further, giving way to Ivan's rubbing hands. Raising his head he looked down and saw just in time Ivan lick up the string of precum that caught on his tongue in its ascent up the phallus.

Alfred definitely didn't expect Ivan to suddenly dip his head and take in about half of him with one swallow. His hips bucked once before Ivan's firm pushing hands stilled his hips. The very same moment Ivan had taken him he had also pressed a finger against his hole. He rubbed to get Alfred used to the feel and the boy shivered from the touch.

Alfred's mind spun. He didn't know if he should be focusing on that warm slick mouth around his dick or the finger probing his puckered ring of muscle. His mind definitely shot to that thick finger when it pressed inside. The oil slicked it up enough for it to slip inside him up to the knuckle with ease.

His breath caught and his eyes opened wide. God, this was happening. He was going to get fucked.

A panic set inside Alfred. He could feel it eating away at his organs, turning them to chilled mush before the ooze began seeping out of his skin. His skin prickled and he shivered violently before the trembles took over. His right hand came down and grabbed a hold of Ivan's hand between his legs, grasping it, but not pulling it away like he had wanted so the finger would slip out of him.

Ivan's mouth left his throbbing cock when Alfred's hands grasped his own currently working finger inside the boy. He looked up at Alfred whose gaze trembled down at him. When he pulled his finger out of him Alfred let out a choked sigh.

Ivan pulled his hand away from Alfred's grasp and instead clasp their fingers together. He leaned up, returned to eye-level with Alfred and kissed him. Alfred was already trying to calm his breathing, so his mouth had already been open as if inviting Ivan's tongue to join his own.

The Russian simply dominated the kiss, sucking against his mouth, pressing his large tongue inside Alfred to where he had to open his mouth as wide as he could to accommodate it. When Alfred's hands rose and unsurely pressed against Ivan's shoulder blades the older man had returned his hand back between Alfred's legs. This time he pressed two fingers inside him.

"Mmph!" Alfred tried to pull away from Ivan but his lips demanded him, and his other hand held onto the back of his head, keeping him close. It wasn't until he was nearly blue in the face that Ivan released his lips. Coughing helped settle the ache in his lungs but when he inhaled they burned all over again, and the weight pressing down on his chest did not help. Mr. Braginsky was a heavy man.

Alfred's breath hitched again when Ivan let go of the base of his skull and reached down to take a firm grip of his ass. He hoisted him up, pushing his hips further onto his own. It helped the fingers press deeper inside, as well as let his cock and balls rub up against Ivan's.

Daaaaaaaamn, Ivan was HUGE!

Alfred gulped. He wanted to look down, but all at once he didn't. He had already broken out in a cold sweat a long time ago. Just the thought that Ivan was already aroused to erection without any touch unnerved Alfred—like many other things.

The scissoring motion of those fingers would have brought Alfred to pain again hadn't Ivan began finding sensitive spots on his neck and chest to suckle. Alfred's eyes fluttered shut at the sensations, his hands holding tightly onto the man's muscular shoulders as he descended down his frame, kissing, licking, and—!

Alfred's eyes shot open when Ivan sunk his teeth into the junction of his neck and shoulder. That hurt! He let out a cry to let Ivan know, but it seemed to make him bite harder and harder until Alfred swore the man meant to eat him.

Alfred bit his lip and closed his eyes shut to suppress the tears. A muffled groan caught in his throat when he felt those teeth leave him. The warmth where the bite had been let Alfred know he was bleeding. He trembled all the more when he felt kisses press against the bleeding wound, even more so when a tongue began lapping at the seeping liquid.

Alfred hated feeling so weak, whimpering like some pathetic victim, but it sure as hell was what he felt like at the moment. When his eyes opened the tears blurred everything more than his crappy vision, but when they slipped down his cheeks and clarified his surroundings in those few seconds he could see Ivan looking at him, his head hovering over his.

Ivan leaned down and kissed him again, the faint coppery taste tinged in his saliva. Alfred still never understood why Ivan tolerated his lack of response. He didn't kiss back, he didn't touch him in return or willingly spread his legs.

"Mm!" Alfred inhaled a gasp through his nostrils being how his mouth was occupied. Those moving digits inside him brushed against something, something that made him buck. It felt strange and made Alfred more than nervous of just what it was.

He could feel Ivan's lips curl against his own when those pressing fingers rubbed with determination. Alfred bucked again, another muffled moan was swallowed by the Russian. The hand resting on his ass moved in between their bodies and squeezed Alfred's arousal again, his pelvic thrusts intensified thus creating a roll in both their hips.

The hum rumbling through Ivan's throat let Alfred know of his pleased state. But it was still strange to rub against Ivan's cock, and when Ivan wrapped his hand around both Alfred could feel the steady pulse of the other's organ. It wasn't as strange as he thought it would be, but it was just all so intimidating. The size of Ivan, the way his hips thrust and guided his own with confidant experience; Alfred was dealing with a well-endowed and long understanding lover. It was right that he was so self-conscious and under confident.

The rubbing, the squeezing, the thrusting, the hips rolling into his, the way those fingers moved inside him; it was all too much. Alfred swelled, and Ivan squeezed. When he came he choked out a cough, his entire body heated with embarrassment.

The rolls died gently and when Ivan stopped thrusting against him he rubbed Alfred's now limp dick evenly. Releasing it he rose his hand and caressed Alfred, he accidently touched his bruised cheek which made Alfred flinch back, and there sounded to be some apology muttered under breath, but it made Alfred open his eyes and looked up at Ivan.

When their eyes met Ivan kissed him once more. Just a simple chaste kiss to the temple before he pushed himself down. Alfred closed his eyes, his embarrassment heightened. He had just cum from Mr. Braginsky's ministrations and he was sick with himself.

On the bright side Ivan removed his fingers from out of Alfred and gave the boy time to recuperate. Alfred could feel him take up one of the bed sheets and wipe his mess from his body—what did it matter? After he was cleaned of his splattered cum that warm oil was poured over him again, Ivan's large hands lathered him and even coated his cock with a few strokes that stimulated Alfred slightly. His body still tingled with the aftermath of the orgasmic shock and so when Ivan began kissing his thighs he moaned, and when Ivan dipped his head further and drew his tongue up his stretched hole Alfred nearly jumped off of the bed.

Ivan's arms wrapped around his thighs and held him still, letting the weight of his upper body keep the boy's hips planted on the mattress as he stuck his tongue inside him, pushing past the loosened ring of muscle and tasting him from the inside. Alfred let out a shrill cry from the unexpected action, his hands came up next to his head and gripped at the sheets underneath him. His thighs shook, wanting to come together to clamp down but Ivan's arms kept them parted for him to access his most private regions easier.

Breath hitching into hiccups Alfred's eyes opened with wide shock. His lips parted but after his first initial cry no more sound erupted. He didn't know what to think of this sudden new sensation rolling through his body, but, God, Ivan knew exactly what he was doing.

Pants passed trembling lips as Alfred rolled his head and closed his eyes. The feel of Ivan pressing his tongue deeper _into_ him was just . . . he couldn't explain it. It felt even more strange when the tongue slipped out of him only for Ivan to suck at him, his lips moving, rubbing against his hole. When his teeth lightly scrapped against him Alfred felt himself hardening. His eyes opened and he looked down, watching his traitor of a cock rise to the erotic stimulation.

His breath left him and his head fell back onto the mattress underneath when Ivan's tongue entered again. Alfred wasn't sure if he wanted to moan. He thought he felt something come out of his throat, but he wasn't entirely sure.

When Ivan loosened his hold on Alfred's thighs just slightly to pull and then push, urging him to roll into him, it wasn't long before Alfred's hips acted on their own accord and did just as Ivan wished. Ivan let him do this until Alfred was standing fully erect, throbbing, begging to be touched. Alfred couldn't believe he was so hard and so easily brought back to life through something like _that_.

After Ivan deemed Alfred thoroughly eaten out he pulled away, kissing back up his right thigh before leaving a tender kiss to the side of Alfred's kneecap. Alfred's hips bucked off the bed once more when Ivan pressed in three fingers this time. He didn't even give the American time to adjust to the added digit, just pressed in as deep as they would go.

"Ah!" Alfred gasped out, his eyes popping open wide, more so when Ivan added yet another finger right away and stretched him out. Alfred's hips threatened to leave the mattress again, but Ivan pressed against his thighs, keeping him as still as possible. The fingers didn't stay in him as long as the first two had and all too soon Alfred was coughing as they left him.

His body locked when Ivan rose over him again, connecting their hips and letting his arousal rub against him, against his abused hole. The outer ring of muscle had already been teased and pried enough, but now as Ivan rubbed his cock against it Alfred could feel his tender flesh take in the feel of Ivan's hot swollen cock. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, just new.

Of course Alfred jumped when the rubbing stopped and instead that thick cock turned and pressed its head against his entrance. Blurry eyes looked up, his body trembling as Ivan looked down at him. A too gentle tattooed hand reached up and rubbed Alfred's untouched cheek, wiping over a fallen tear before releasing the boy's face.

Ivan took up the bottle of oil again and rubbed a generous amount on his cock. Lathered it until it was dripping with lubrication. Alfred watched it shine off the dimly lit lighted lamps in the room. He even watched as Ivan cupped the monster and guided it back to Alfred's hips, between his spread legs.

Alfred watched it disappear from his sight as Ivan pressed down against him, chest to chest, abdomen to abdomen, and hip to hip. Alfred felt it unnecessary, but Ivan grabbed a handful of his golden hair on the base of his skull anyways to hold him still for the penetration.

The head of the cock slipping into him wasn't so bad, but the wide length that followed it brought tears to Alfred eyes, tears that could not be held back, and whimpers past his lips. Teeth bared and eyes clenched shut, Alfred tossed his head to the side, ignoring the feel of Ivan's tightening fingers in his hair to keep him from moving his head too much.

There were kisses and sucks to his cheek, his ear, his jaw, and neck in the same timing of Ivan's entry into him. They didn't help, not at all. But, oddly enough, the soft mutters and whispers in Russian seemed to calm Alfred to an extent.

Alfred forgot how to breathe when Ivan was fully settled inside him. The boy's lips opened wide to take in breath but his lungs refused to work properly. Before it became dangerous Ivan had turned his head, back to him. He took in his state for a moment and offered Alfred a releasing kiss.

Alfred gasped and inhaled through the gaps of their lips. When his chest heaved enough air to fill both organs Ivan pressed down harder and kissed his senses away. Both large hands moved to the sides of Alfred's face, holding him and guiding him in the kiss.

Alfred's arms rose, his hands skimming up a wide ribcage until they moved over a broad back and held onto the Russian like that. Once Alfred had stilled Ivan pressed the last of himself inside. The moment his testicles rubbed against Alfred's ass he pulled away, his hips dragging his length out for a moment only to press back inside to repeat the process.

The first thrusts were slow and drawn out, leaving Alfred to catch his breath. Ivan pulled his lips away from him and littered his neck with kisses and sucks. One of his hands reached down and took hold of a thigh, pulling it close against his hip and holding it high in place.

Alfred had never felt so stretched in his life. When Ivan had first entered him completely and sat there for a moment Alfred felt he'd burst. The feel of it inside him, of something that big . . . dear God.

Still, every time Ivan pressed inside it felt as if he was pressing deeper, easing clenched virginal anal muscles open to accept him easier. The more he thrust inside the closer he pressed. Each descending push inside and Ivan would loom closer, his hips just about jabbing into Alfred's, and the younger was forced to spread his legs wider so not to cause any discomfort, and in time his hips were raised from the bed and legs wrapped around Ivan's waist to keep the man from pounding his pelvic bone into dust.

"Uh, uh!" Alfred gasped. He could feel Ivan deepening his thrusts, could feel him applying strength. Alfred had once prided himself with powerful thrusts when he conducted sex but this man, dear God, Ivan was looking to paralyze his partners.

The oil made it a little difficult to hold onto Ivan. It worked well with him moving inside Alfred but not so much with the grip. Alfred's ankles unhooked from the slickness and his legs found no ground to hold onto and so his legs fell down and Ivan slipped out a little more than he had wanted. He was quick to catch the stumble and moved his hips down with Alfred as they landed back on the mattress. He hadn't even been thrown off rhythm.

Instead Ivan reached down with both hands and parted Alfred's thighs apart to give him better access. Alfred groaned at being spread so wide, it's not like he could do the splits so what was Ivan expecting? The pleased grunts leaving Ivan's mouth let Alfred know that he was enjoying the experience. Alfred frowned at that, he wanted to be a horrible lay, maybe then Ivan would grow bored of him and toss him away—let him go.

That, apparently, wasn't going to happen however. Ivan thrust in hard and struck that place inside Alfred that made him uncomfortable. But as Ivan hit it dead on with such velocity Alfred threw his head back, shouted out a loud moan and bucked against him. Ivan seemed to have wanted that reaction because he did it again, and once more Alfred rolled his hips into him.

He couldn't stop himself, it felt so damn good. Blue eyes rolled into his head and his lips parted, letting out all sorts of embarrassing sounds that he was too caught up in pleasure to hear or comprehend. With his head tilted back and neck arched Ivan returned, scrapping his teeth down the length of the tanned skin before he leaned down further and took in a nipple. Alfred bucked harder against Ivan and to his horror his hands flew into those sandy locks, pushing him closer.

When Alfred's hands became restrictive and wouldn't allow Ivan to pull away and give the other nipple his undivided attention he let go of Alfred's hips and grabbed both of those wrists and pulled them away from his hair. He smiled up at Alfred's lust-ridden facial features and keeping eye-contact with those dark sapphires as he flicked his tongue out at the other nub that was calling to him, perking in anticipation for his wet hot moistening mouth. Ivan still held his eyes when he pursed his lips and took in that awaiting nipple.

Alfred's eyes fluttered but did not shut. His lips parted, sucking in stuttering breaths. He watched Ivan the entire time, licking, nibbling, pulling at his nipple. The jolts of the experience shot right down to Alfred's groin, it was now hot and red against Ivan's abdominal muscles, rubbing in time with Ivan's thrusts.

Ivan smirked when he let go of the lavishly abused bud. Alfred had not taken his eyes off him since he began suckling him. Reaching up, Ivan pressed his right hand against Alfred's cheek, once again mindful of his discoloring bruise left by one of his men who would pay for tarnishing Alfred's beautiful features. When Ivan gently pulled, urging Alfred to lean forward, the boy did and when their lips met and Ivan kissed him he was delighted to feel the small minor movement of the boy's lips against his own.

This encouraged Ivan to thrust harder, his rolling hips deepening and pressing firmer against Alfred to get the younger to gasp, to moan, to open his mouth so that Ivan may have access. It worked. Alfred was moaning louder, his mouth opening wide to let all of Ivan inside. When his lips moved against the older's Ivan smiled and awarded the boy with a squeezing hand.

Alfred's eyes popped again. "AH!" That large hand of Ivan's took hold of him just in time for the Russian's cock to jab against that savory place inside him. It felt amazing after the initial discomfort and now his hips rolled into Ivan's wanting more, silently pleading he press deeper and harder.

Ivan must have been really good at reading bodily pleas and the mood in another because he picked up the pace, grasping Alfred's hips, rising them again and shoving Alfred's back into the mattress. Alfred choked at the new position but with the help of gravity, Ivan's cock penetrated deeper and much faster and harder . . . just like Alfred secretly wanted.

It was Alfred spreading his legs wider, it was Alfred tossing his head to and fro in pure bliss, and it was the American crying out words he never thought he'd shout out — especially not in a dubious situation like this.

"Yes, yes, AH! Yes!" Alfred may have been too far gone to comprehend his cries of enjoyment but Ivan was not. He continually pressed in just the right way to get Alfred to keep saying such encouraging words. "Oh! Ah! Mr. Braginsky! Ivan, yes. Please, harder!"

Ivan paused after hearing his name pass out of Alfred's lips in such a way. In his pause Alfred's shaking head halted, his eyes opened and he looked up at Ivan with a confused and hazy gaze. He gasped when the Russian dropped his hips, allowing himself to slip out of him.

Alfred opened his lips, perhaps to whine at the loss of fulfilment. He felt utterly empty and gapping. His legs remained spread in hopes to encourage the older man to return and fill him again.

It wasn't long before Alfred's shameful wish came true. Instead of Ivan leaning down to cover him again his hands reached down and took hold of Alfred's waist. Twisting him he flipped Alfred around onto his belly and from their his hands slid down to his hips, pulling at them until his manhood nudged his cheeks apart and found his entrance to press inside again.

Alfred moaned, his eyes fluttering closed again. He hummed his pleasure when Ivan pressed closer, his chest rubbing against Alfred's back and his arms wrapping around him. Alfred's own arms reached up, wrapping around Ivan's neck, there he held onto him as he thrust into him.

When Alfred turned his head the feel of Ivan's breath cascaded over his lips and he inhaled every exhale. His hands wrapped around that thick rough neck reached up, tangled digits into his soft hair and pressed him down, their lips connected and Ivan's thrusts hardened.

Ivan leaned over Alfred's shoulder, one of his hands pressed against his collarbone to get the boy to twist more toward him. When Alfred was angled toward him enough Ivan let go of his collarbone and instead pressed his hand against the American's jaw, holding him against him as he sucked against his lips and snuck his tongue past his teeth. When Alfred pressed against him on his own, Ivan's hand moved down and began tugging at his nipple, pinching, pulling and rubbing.

Alfred moaned into Ivan's mouth, his hips grinding against Ivan's behind him. The feeling of Ivan's tongue inside his mouth when his moan vibrated out was interesting, especially when the thicker muscle arched up, rubbing against the back of Alfred's top teeth just to feel the vibrations of the sound. Alfred felt Ivan shiver behind him and when he leaned more into him Alfred felt himself fall flat onto the mattress, his legs parted with Ivan's knee to give him room to ram into him.

When Alfred pressed back against Ivan the older thrust back harder, in so rubbing Alfred's cock against the mattress and sheets underneath. Alfred moaned, his mouth opening wide and saliva dripping to stain the nice sheets beneath them. Never in his life had he ever thought about being stretched _there_ or how shamelessly incredible it could feel.

So what if Alfred could barely breathe with Ivan's weight pressed down on top of him, the mind-numbing pleasure was already taking his breath away, and those moans slipping past his lips on their own accord made it harder for him to even attempt to take in a breath. He wanted it this way, with Ivan so close, because he felt that if Ivan leaned away and just fucked him with his hips in hand he'd feel like some cheap whore or useless animal. No, Ivan never left him, instead he pressed closer and closer, his thrusts already beginning to ache Alfred's hips.

Alfred's jaw was grasped again, turned and lips descended on his own. It was sloppy, something to be embarrassed about if Alfred was in the right set of mind. But he wasn't, instead his hands pulled at strands of hair, his hips pressed back into that penetrating cock and insides squeezed down on it, attempting to keep it inside him, attempting to sink it further inside. Alfred kissed back, he didn't remember when he began doing this but Ivan was one hell of a kisser and he couldn't stop his lips from seeking the skill.

One of Alfred's hands slipped out of Ivan's hair and rested on his shoulder just as soon as a powerful thrust knocked into him. Alfred sighed out a moan, his head turning, cheek pressing into the sheets underneath. Ivan reached up and pressed against his hand, holding it against his shoulder, and with that arm so close Alfred felt the large build of the Russian's muscles. He had no doubt that Ivan could crunch him in half if he wanted to.

All of this thinking made Alfred wonder if Ivan could indeed go faster and painstakingly harder. So Alfred's fingers gripped onto what they could, skin and hair, and he leaned his head back against Ivan's jaw, giving the Russian a reason to lean over his neck to seek another kiss. Alfred gave it to him, it was a softer kiss, but when his lips left Alfred's eyes took in Ivan's features, he looked worked, a light sweat already coating his skin, but he looked extremely well-paced. His lips had parted slightly to breathe in and out timed pants and his eyes were closed, probably to take in the feel of everything.

"Harder," Alfred breathed out. His vision seemed to have cleared in that moment. How well he could see Ivan either meant the Russian was that close to him or that sex possibly gave him his vision back—whichever it was, Alfred was looking at Ivan with wide darkened eyes that didn't want to be denied. "Ivan." The sound of his name turned the older male toward Alfred and their eyes met. "Ivan," Alfred said again, a moan tumbling out of his throat a moment after.

Alfred caught that smile and closed his eyes when Ivan leaned in close again only to feel a kiss just behind his ear. "Pozzhe," Alfred heard Ivan say. He didn't know what the word meant but Ivan did not oblige to his wishes, instead he kept his pace and slipped a hand down his body, between the sheets to . . .

"Oh!" Alfred gasped, his face reddening when Ivan grasped him, squeezed good and hard. His hips rose and now he was on his knees with his chin digging into the sheets. Alfred could feel kisses littering his shoulder blades and neck and when Ivan began going faster his heart raced because if he didn't let him go then he'd— "Ah, ah, AH!" Alfred's vision went white for a good five seconds after coming undone.

Ivan continued stroking him even as he shot his essence onto his hand and the sheets below. Alfred moaned at those roaming fingers, especially the ones touching the tip, rubbing around the slit as he orgasmed. When he had nothing more to give Ivan surprised Alfred by squeezing him hard one last time and bucking into him, burying himself deep and finishing inside him.

Alfred went rigid at the feel. It was hot and spreading. Alfred had already felt Ivan's girth was enough to make him feel overwhelmingly stretched but the essence shooting out of the older was unexpectedly more so. Alfred swore he felt his very stomach stretch to accommodate the substance, but that could just be his mind playing frightening tricks on him. Though he did know for a fact that Ivan had gripped his hips, held them up as he emptied himself inside him, as if he didn't want any part of him slipping out.

They stayed that way for a while. Alfred had already caught his breath and so just laid there, still, listening to the sound of Ivan's own breathing as it ragged out of him and the tell-tale signs of the Russian's sweat dripping down from him and onto Alfred's back and neck.

Alfred gulped when he felt Ivan thrust inside him. He had thought he was done. That one round seemed drawn out to Alfred, but he wasn't entirely sure seeing that his state of mind had been hazed.

But Ivan pulled out after that. Entirely the Russian pulled away from Alfred and when the American turned his head he watched Ivan stand, walk over to a wardrobe dresser and pull out a robe. Alfred furrowed his brow in confusion while he watched Ivan slip on the dark piece of clothing on, even tying the sash around his waist.

That was it? Ivan didn't look so much as fazed from what just happened aside from the slight out of breath he was suffering from. But of course the Russian seemed to want to fix that from the counter of drinks off to the side of the room where he poured himself some strong drink and gulped the entire cup down.

Alfred's never felt so used in his life. Bootycall; that's exactly what he felt like. Whatever, not important—it's not like Ivan took his virginity that night or anything!

Well, maybe it had worked, maybe Alfred was such a horrible lay he'd be released and Ivan would never mess with him again. Alfred thought about this when he attempted to sit up only to hiss at how roughly his hips shifted together, his bones crying out in agony to him. Perhaps when Alfred was "released" he'd be shot and dumped somewhere. Frankly, he hadn't cared in that moment, his shame tormented him inside and all he wanted to do was curl up and die.

A heated glare to the back was what Ivan received from Alfred that soon turned downward, his eyes falling to his abused body and all of the grime coating it. Alfred wanted to cry, he really did. He not only felt shamefully empty but internally conflicted over what had happened.

In honesty, that was the best goddamn sex Alfred's ever had.

"There's a bathing room to your right. Feel free to use it. There's a set of clothing in there for you. You may leave when you wish."

Alfred looked over toward Ivan who had turned toward him, his empty cup full again. When Ivan inhaled the other drink he turned around once more and began pouring himself another. The American frowned, God, it was like he was trying to drink to forget this ever happened. The bastard.

Ivan didn't even help Alfred over to the bathroom. No, he completely ignored his groaning, protesting body that struggled just to stand upright and make it to the room. In the shower is where Alfred felt the full-blown feeling of self-worthlessness.

He was a good person, did his job obediently, got decent grades, and respected everyone. So, why? Why did this happen to him? What'd he do wrong to tick off the wrong vibe?

He washed slowly, the water never went cold no matter how long he stayed in the shower. When he reached in between his legs he winced, his fingers rubbed at his asshole. With grimace he traced the stretched ring of muscle. God, he hoped that healed. He could easily slip three fingers into him right now.

Pulling his hand away Alfred about gagged at the sight of Ivan's cum on his fingers. He quickly washed it away and without care for his ache between his legs, quickly scrubbed his hole, dipping in slightly just to cleanse out the bastard's orgasm. Alfred didn't leave the shower until all of that shit was gone, nothing more dripping out of him.

Even when Alfred dried himself off and put on the clothing offered he felt he still smelled like _him_. Everything was too rich, too goddamn expensive for his taste. Alfred scrunched his nose at it all.

When he left the bathroom Ivan was waiting for him. He was already cleaned himself, dressed and primed. In his hand was Alfred's glasses. He held them out to the boy to signal for him to come and get them.

Alfred frowned. The distance between them wasn't that far, but with Alfred's current state just walking that far would prove tedious. But Ivan wouldn't move and so, with a huff of breath, Alfred walked over to the man the best he could without showing him how hurt he was.

Snatching the frames out of his hand Alfred turned and put them back on. He didn't even turn back to Ivan to thank him or anything. He didn't have anything to thank him for after all.

"I want to go home." That was all Alfred said. He tried to sound off in a tone that left no room for question, but his voice cracked near the end. Damn jittery emotions.

"Da, I will take you," came Ivan's reply.

And Mr. Braginsky did. The ride home was silent and Alfred didn't give a damn if he was sitting in a freaking limo. He sat his distance from Ivan, refusing to look at him.

When they stopped and Alfred recognized his dorms he made to open the door. Before his hand even reached the handle the driver had already opened it for him. Alfred frowned up at the curtesy gesture of the man and made to exit quickly.

A large hand grabbing his elbow halted him. It pulled him back inside and onto Ivan's lap. Lips descended on his own and the other hand rubbed his inner thigh, a little too close to his manhood.

Teeth pulled at his lips and Alfred's surprised gasp left his mouth open just enough for a familiar tongue to press inside. The kiss was as long as Ivan wanted it. When he pulled away he smiled at Alfred and rose the hand grasping his arm toward his face, tattooed ring-laden knuckles caressed Alfred's beautiful face.

"You are free next week on Sunday, da? I will pick you up then. Be ready for me, moi podsolnechnik."

That was it. Alfred was released and he stumbled out of the limo. His eyes wide when the dark entourage drove off out of sight. He didn't know how long he stood there on the sidewalk leading back to the dorms but he wouldn't be surprised if it was for a good couple of hours.

How he made it back to his dorm was beyond him. His roommate had morning classes and they were gone by the time he got inside. The sun was just poking its head into the sky and when Alfred looked over at his digital clock his eyes widened. Well, he'd been kept up all night.

The sudden weariness overwhelmed the American student and he slumped over to his bed. He collapsed and was about ready to cry himself to sleep when his phone went off. He poked his head up and looked at the cell on the desk. He completely forgot he had left it there before classes the previous night. Was a good thing too or else it'd end up lost forever along with his pack, hoodie, jeans, and favorite pair of Nikes. Ah, shit! His books!

With a groaning sigh, Alfred reached over and took up his phone. Taking a quick glance at the caller ID he decided on whether or not to answer. His heart skipped a beat at the number. On his own he answered the call and placed his phone next to his ear.

"Yeah?" He swallowed hard to keep his heart calm.

"Hey . . . Alfred."

God, it was so good to hear her voice. Alfred just melted at the sound, a smile brightening his grim features. He pushed himself to sit up on his bed only to hiss at the pain in his backside, an awful reminder of his current circumstance now.

His ex, Lien, she had called him just a few days ago wanting to get together for a cup of coffee. Alfred had been busy at work and hadn't answered it and so she left her number for him to respond. He hadn't gotten the chance due to cramming some behind studies he should have been caught up with. So, finally, she called him again.

"I've been thinking," she began in that accented voice of hers. Alfred smiled at the sound. He very much liked her Vietnamese speech. "I miss you, Alfred."

The American's heart skipped a beat. He sat up straighter, his sweating hand rubbing down on his pants. He looked down at them when he noticed the feel far from the usual rougher texture of his jeans—oh, that's right.

"How we ended it before wasn't right," she continued. "And I . . . I would like for us to get back together."

Alfred smiled big and wide. His ex, the one he felt he could love and probably bring home to mama, wanted him back. This was the best day of his life! This—

Wait.

No.

Shit.

A frown pulled down all of Alfred's happy features and the dull throb in his ass served as a reminder of just where his life had to be. He would have been fine had Ivan just kicked him out without a care, but he said . . . next Sunday . . . that he'd . . . oh God.

No, Alfred would not let Lien deal with that. It wasn't right, more so it wasn't safe. Hell, if he decided to see her again with Ivan constantly pulling him off and having his little "dinner fucks" why, he might hurt her—or his family. No, Alfred had to save them from that. And if he had to sacrifice his own happiness just so that they could be safe then he would. He was the hero after all, and heroes made . . . sacrifices.

"Actually," Alfred began after a pause. His frown ate at his breaking heart. "I'm . . . seeing someone else."

The silence on the other end already hurt Alfred more than his own rejecting words. "Oh." Lien sounded disappointed and just as sad as Alfred. God, if only she knew. "That's too bad."

Alfred choked out a sob that he muffled quickly so to not let her hear, but at least she couldn't see the tears falling down his face. "Yeah . . . it is, isn't it?"


	2. What It Is

**DOTR****: BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND! **

**Seriously, I've never really written an intended oneshot that got so many asking to be continued. Wasn't my intention to, but with everyone being awesome with the reviews and asking for it my mind started ticking and figured out a descent three more chapters for this baby. Now, granted it will have darker themes other than psychological issues and whatnot, it's a Mafia AU so there are a lot of possibilities as to what can happen. Also, there will be time skips, with me trying to treat each chapter like a oneshot (in other words, a quicker pace). That and let's just face it there will be loads of smut, or at least as much as I can fit in without feeling the chapter is overwhelmed with it.**

**That being said I hope you guys enjoy these chapters as much as the first one. I know it could be left on its own (and hopefully I don't ruin the feel of the story by adding these up), but since you lovely, lovely readers insisted. Here they are!**

* * *

His name was Mr. Volkov and all Alfred needed to know about him was that Ivan didn't like him.

He wasn't given much information often, and Alfred figured it was for his own protection. He'd long since figured out these were other acquaintances or rival leaders of groups to Ivan. He's also figured out why he's been asked—more like quietly demanded—that he appear more by Ivan's side.

Alfred was a trophy to be shown off. A pretty little thing to keep the rivals preoccupied.

"Itak, kak vy poznakomilis Ivan , molodoy veshch_?_"

Alfred's thought-glazed over eyes blinked back into reality. He turned his head with a hum and looked at the much older Russian who was sitting near him. By the way the American's lips pressed together straighter and his brows rose it was easy to tell he hadn't caught what the other man had actually said to him.

A chuckle to the left alerted him to Ivan, but Alfred didn't need to turn to look at the man. He was well-trained to keep his attention on one person at a time, especially Ivan's "friends."

"_He is American. He cannot understand Russian,_" Ivan informed after wiping his mouth clean of his dinner.

Mr. Volkov immediately backed away, his frown too easily seen when his eyes turned toward Ivan. "_You haven't taught him the language yet?_" His laugh would have offended Alfred had he cared or understood their conversation, but it definitely seemed to strike a spot with Ivan who straightened his own lips, keeping his resolve enough not to frown in this older gentleman's presence. "_Why, I'm surprised you keep him around without ridding such arrogant traits._" But, all too soon Mr. Volkov swooned over Alfred's beauty. His smile back in place and eyes gentler at the American. "_But, then again, I can understand fully why you still keep him. He's an attraction to behold._"

Ivan pulled out a smile of his own, one Alfred's seen many a time. "Da," Ivan replied politely.

In the beginning, Ivan hadn't shown Alfred off to anyone. In fact it wasn't until the summer that Ivan so "invited" Alfred to spend the months off from school at one of his homes. It was a nice place up in the Vermont countryside, but Ivan hadn't invited him there just to go fishing. Around that time was when Alfred met some of Ivan's business partners, and each one of them couldn't keep their eyes off of him.

So now it was usual to come with Mr. Braginsky on his "business" ventures dressed in gold chains around his neck and wrists, designer glasses, tailor fitted suits and pleasant smelling cologne.

Right now Alfred was dressed to impress. Ties had long since been thrown from his wardrobe and a few dress shirts unbuttoned in the form of a "V" with the collars jutting out became ideal to show off his tanned well-toned chest—just enough to tease. It was a teal-like in color, the lighter colors always making his eyes shift in hue ever so slightly to camouflage, it stood out nicely against the rest of his suit. The black jacket was lined with high carat buttons as well as diamond cufflinks, and his pants were nice and tight, all of his suit hugged the curves of his body very well. And what a pretty little doll he was.

Hell, even his black framed designer Gold &amp; Wood glasses had small diamonds embedded near the joints. Alfred was lavishly gifted and Ivan made sure that everyone who saw him knew it was by him.

"_So, how are you enjoying your stay in Moscow, Ivan?_" Mr. Volkov's attention was reluctantly pulled away from Alfred who idly minded his own business when he felt it time to speak to his business guest. "_I trust you approve of the choice of housing?_"

Ivan kept his smile, surprisingly. "_Actually, I decided to take it upon myself to find the accommodations. I own some luxury hotels here in the city and thought it would be nice for the staves to see the owner every once in a while. But I thank you for being so courteous._"

While Ivan and Mr. Volkov spoke Alfred sighed and took to taking in the restaurant. It was a very nice place and Alfred briefly wondered who owned it. He was certain it was Mr. Volkov, but by the way he spied how he treated Ivan, Alfred wondered just who owned him.

Heading to Moscow during winter break was not on Alfred's to-do-list. In fact, he had never wanted to leave the States in his life, but Ivan wouldn't take, "no," for an answer. He had his passport in his hand faster than Alfred could blink and all too soon the American was packed and on a flight to the heart of Russia.

The hotel they stayed at was nice, but Alfred wanted to see the sights whereas Ivan continuously kept him by his side at his meetings with fellow partners and such. But, what could Alfred do?

The pretty little thing with Mr. Volkov was a looker too. Dark hair, high cheekbones and perfectly arched brows. Her dress was skin tight, a pale purple, and made sure to make her breasts look near popping out.

Alfred chuckled at the irony. He and she were just two fucking whores to show off. Their men trying to outdo the other by silently saying, "Mine's better looking."

Alfred and she shared a look and from that they acknowledged the other. They understood perfectly what they were, but Alfred didn't look at her like competition. Her arrogance caused her to jut her nose up a little while Alfred just kept to himself and leaned back in his chair.

Her movement alerted her partner—or owner, however the man in question wanted to be addressed. Mr. Volkov smiled at her and reached out, placed his left hand on her back, his fingertips slowly playing with her hair. He turned back to Ivan, that grin still in place when he began speaking to him again.

Alfred was sure glad he couldn't understand them. He frankly didn't want to know what they were talking about. They'd already been there for a couple of hours and so far neither had made motions to end the night. Russians seemed to draw on and on it seemed.

Despite Alfred not understanding the speech he did find it interesting how their faces contorted to whatever words they said. Mr. Volkov seemed like a decently nice man, but by Ivan's descending frown Alfred could tell he was about to have it with him.

Something, Alfred didn't know what, but something Mr. Volkov said ticked Ivan off. Of course Alfred doubted this man knew. When Ivan would lean back in his seat and cross his fingers it meant he was upset, displeased. He was usually a well-mannered man for the most part, but when his back touched the seat behind him that's when one should really be paying close attention to him.

But, like so many others, Mr. Volkov was blind to this. Perhaps it was because it had been a while since he's done business with Ivan. Whatever the reason, Alfred was certain the graying-haired Russian and Ivan were going to have a nice private chat away from their "bitches" soon.

Well, Alfred didn't want to be left alone at the table with Miss Popping Jugs and so he scooted his chair out, the sound turning everyone's attention toward him. As rehearsed he just offered a smile and wink, turning to his table mates and saying, "Drank a little too much wine." Alfred's gotten good at lying excuses, but no one was questioning him anymore, least not in public.

He didn't even bother turning around to see if things escalated further between Ivan and Mr. Volkov. It's been a long while since Alfred had any interest in Ivan and his business interests. He didn't give a damn if they pulled guns out on the other and shot up the entire dining area. God knew there was enough mob bosses and corrupt political leaders in the joint that the world could do without.

The bathrooms were just as nice as the halls of the restaurant. Everything was self-automatic and warm. It was cold in Moscow, but the places Alfred's been so far were very well kept in temperature. Sure made Alfred feel sorry for the poor bastards who didn't have such lush luxuries.

He contemplated on whether or not he'd return to the table. He wasn't needed except for presentation's sake. Plus, he was certain it was getting too dangerous for his stay anyways. Usually, around that time Ivan would ask him to return to their ride.

Alfred ended up staying inside, letting his cold hands run under warm water. He didn't care for the suspicious onlookers coming to and from the restroom. He knew they wouldn't touch him—or, more like couldn't touch him. Ivan constantly assured him of his security, but there was always the doubt in the back of Alfred's mind . . . and possibly the forefront as well.

Yeah, Alfred was just waiting to be picked off. Wondered what Ivan would do once he was gone. Alfred snickered bitterly at the thought and sighed. He'd been in the restroom long enough and knew Ivan didn't like to leave his guests alone.

Turning he made to dry his hands from the air dryer. He kept his eyes on his hands and at watching the water drip away. Alfred didn't so much as look up at the mirrors overlaying the walls of the restroom because he knew if he did he'd have to look at Ivan.

The clothes, the jewelry, the glasses, they were all Ivan. A reminder of who he belonged to. Alfred hated them all. It wasn't him. He never felt the need to stay by one's side simply for the pleasures they provided.

But it was how Ivan groomed him and wanted him to present himself so Alfred had no choice. On campus Alfred struggled just to walk around in attire he was comfortable in. Ivan had eyes everywhere and continually insisted he wear the "gifts" he'd given him even when they were not together.

A pair of 30,000 dollar glasses on an average campus like Alfred's college? Hell no. Designer shoes that were more for show than comfort? Yeah, no thanks. Sneakers, jeans, and hoodies, that's all Alfred wanted and felt easy in.

Alfred did look up over his diamond encrusted glasses when the echo of the restroom door bouncing against the wall and swinging back resounded in the now suspiciously empty room. From where he stood near the dryers he could see who had made such a ruckus from the reflection of the mirrors. Ah, there was Ivan, just two steps in and he was cursing in that native language of his. He looked upset.

Alfred didn't turn to him. He was drying his hands off.

"Common curtesy." Ah, now Ivan was speaking English. He sometimes did this; when arguing he'd switch back and forth from Russian to English, but Alfred could never really piece together what he was trying to say—not often.

The scoff was loud, Alfred could hear it over the blasting hand dryer.

"Just because I have not been to Moscow in many years does not mean I don't know the customs!" Ivan's tone was higher, he was upset. Hm, Alfred wondered what Mr. Volkov did to offend him so much.

The hand dryer finally stopped and Alfred's hands were plenty free of moisture. They'd probably crack from the rigid coldness of the season, but all the more reason for Ivan to buy him hand lotion.

Alfred wondered if Ivan would have approached him had he kept his back turned to him, but he wouldn't know because he turned to him, offered him a listening ear for his rants. Ivan looked at him when he turned, their gazes connecting for a moment before the Russian took quick steps closer to him.

Ivan reached up, his hand cupping Alfred's cheek, still too tenderly. When Ivan looked at Alfred his features softened, his persona much more gentle for the time being.

"Trade?" Ivan chuckled to himself, allowed a humorous smile to grace his lips while his eyes delved into Alfred's beautiful blues. "Common curtesy to trade partners in Moscow as a show of trust?" Another chuckle left Ivan's lips and this time Alfred could feel his gloved hand pressing a little harder against his cheek and jaw. "I am as much Russian as he, does he take me for a fool?!"

A frown and harsher glare easily took over Ivan's features. Alfred knew he was not upset with him but it wasn't safe to be around Ivan when he was in his offended state. Not that Alfred couldn't pull away, he had nowhere to go.

Ivan's other hand reached up and now he was holding Alfred by both sides of his face. His thumbs rubbed against Alfred's cheeks, a little higher later, just slipping under his glasses to rub under his eyes. Ivan looked quite upset.

"Does he think I want that suka?" Alfred caught the sound of that growl attached to that Russian word that he could guess a pretty good translation for. The right hand on Alfred's face shifted, moving back behind his head only to tangle in his hair, holding his skull at the base. "Does he think that you want his cock inside you?!"

Alfred winced at the tug from the fingers pulling at his hair. The hand pulled down to drag him to his knees. "Nyet!" Alfred's never seen Ivan this upset in public before. Mr. Volkov was deftly fucked. "You spread your legs for _me_ only!"

When Alfred's knees bumped against the ground he reached out his hand to steady his balance after the push to the floor. The jingle from Ivan's belt as he quickly unfastened it turned Alfred's attention upward. He didn't say a word, not that Ivan would listen to him if he did.

"Have I not shown him enough that you are mine?" Alfred wondered if Ivan was speaking to him in address or just rambling to himself. Could be both. "Is he that blind?" Ah, the fly was unzipped and now Ivan was pulling himself out, his hand cupping himself and guiding the cock to Alfred's mouth while his other hand still pressed against the back of the American's head pushed him closer.

After the third "date" Alfred had been required to learn how to blow. It took a couple more of their _romantic _evenings until he got used to it. He didn't want to say he's perfected it, but who was he to know? He just did as silently commanded.

Alfred opened his mouth as wide as he could and relaxed his throat. He pleased Ivan when he pushed himself forward without the nudge of his hand and took him in. Ivan hardened quick. He was already near half-mast when Alfred took him into his mouth, now he was working on swallowing the rest of the shaft.

Ivan ran his fingers through golden locks as his partner pleasured him. His other hand constantly caressed tanned cheekbones. He sighed in pleasure, his eyes closing briefly before opening and looking down at the younger man taking him.

His hand caressing Alfred's cheekbone lowered until it cupped his chin making it just a tad bit harder not to clamp down on the organ in the boy's mouth. Did Ivan want Alfred to bite him? He could, Alfred really could right now.

But Alfred knew better, he knew that Ivan expected experience and skill and who was Alfred to disappoint him? No, not Alfred, especially when Ivan so _graciously_ picked him as his "mate."

"Does he think this mouth would want anything else in it besides my cock?" Alfred glanced up at Ivan just as soon as he managed to rub his nose against the Russian's silky boxers signaling he'd taking most of what he could into his mouth, deep in his throat. Ivan looked crazed, utterly possessive, even Alfred hasn't seen too much of this side of Ivan. That crooked grin that seemed to make his teeth look terrifyingly sharp made Alfred shiver, urging him to suck harder.

When Ivan's hand cupping his chin released his jaw it reached down to rub Alfred's throat, pressing inward to feel the expanded esophagus and possibly the outline of his dick clogging the passageway. Alfred stilled when the Russian began thrusting into his mouth, his hand rubbing his throat at the feel. It wasn't easy to suck while Ivan thrust his large cock into Alfred's throat and so he just sat there, and relaxed his throat as much as possible.

Ivan was long as he was wide and Alfred could feel his jaw protesting to the expanse it had to deal with while his uvula threatened to make him gag if it was rubbed one more time. Every now and then Alfred had to swallow to ease the saliva build up and these motions made Ivan groan because it felt very similar to a suck. Now Ivan was grasping the sides of his face again, thrusting into him a little quicker than before.

Alfred closed his eyes to blink away the tears from the intrusion. He tried his very best to keep up with Ivan and to keep from choking, but there was only so much he could take. He had to get Ivan off quick.

So, Alfred hummed, hoping the vibrations would be the deciding factor to finally push Ivan over the edge. Alfred didn't mind swallowing him, he just wanted him to finish already.

The sound of Ivan's pants and groans shamelessly aroused Alfred. He could feel his little trooper stirring to life in his boxer briefs. He did not touch himself though, refusing to get off right then.

He wouldn't outwardly admit it or inwardly really, but somewhere deep inside the now twisted deluded dark parts of Alfred's mind he enjoyed Ivan's facial features when he sucked him. With his brows knit together, and lips slightly parted to let out groaning panted breaths, it made some small sense of pride swell in the blackened part of the American's heart. _He_ was the one making Ivan come undone, _he_ was the one pleasuring him like he wanted, _he_ was the one whose mouth Ivan wanted around him.

This ebbing dark unacknowledged thought encouraged Alfred to attempt sucking again. His moved his head despite Ivan's hold on his face and when he took the lead Ivan's hold softened and his resolve crumbled. Bobbing back and forth faster than Ivan had been thrusting down his throat made the older man shiver and Alfred felt the swelling of the cock pushed down his throat—Ivan was almost at his limit.

Grabbing a hold of Ivan's wider hips to steady himself, Alfred anchored and sucked harder. His chin tapping against Ivan's clothed balls let him know he was taking all of him in. He'd come a long way since his first attempt at sucking this Russian package.

When Alfred opened his eyes and looked up he was surprised to find Ivan looking down at him. Those eyes seemed to glow, but their connection was enough to bring Ivan to completion. Alfred moaned, his eyes glazing over with unwanted lust when he watched Ivan's face in his moments of orgasm. The older man's eyes closed, his lips parted ever more slightly, letting out a moan just as his head tilted back.

The cum shooting down Alfred's throat built up, but Ivan was so kind to pull out just as the essence rose to the base of Alfred's mouth. The younger held his head up vertical, his mouth still open from its long insistence to remain so for Ivan's need. The release inside his mouth was glanced at once by his partner before Alfred's jaw moved and he closed his mouth to swallow it all.

Alfred didn't need permission to stand back up onto his feet and go to the sinks to clean off anything that may have gotten on his face. He could hear Ivan fixing himself behind him, belt buckle fastened and zipper raised. It was actually pleasant when the Russian pressed close to him, a massaging hand on his back rubbed him gently in appreciation.

Ivan leaned down and gave him a kiss right behind his ear before whispering, saying, "Return to the limo. I'll be out in a moment."

Alfred turned his head just in time to watch Ivan's retreating form leave the bathroom. He did spy two of Ivan's bodyguards near the entrance of the restroom doors when it swung to part for Ivan's exit. Right before the door swung shut he watched Ivan motion them to follow him.

Alfred had nothing to say to that. In fact he remained in the restroom sucking in water and spitting it out to clear out the taste of Ivan. He felt sick to his stomach, but he knew it would settle down.

When other men began entering into the bathroom without being ushered away by Ivan's lookout men Alfred decided it was time to leave. He dried himself off and left, not caring how many men and women looked at him. They couldn't have him, not even if he were to give himself to them. Simply was impossible.

Ivan didn't make Alfred wait in the car for long. He looked more mellow than previously, but half way back to the hotel Alfred watched a sly grin creep its way onto Ivan's face. The moment they pulled up to the front doors of the place they roomed at Ivan refused to get out with Alfred.

"You may stay. I just remembered I have a few errands to run, I will not be long," Ivan informed, the door shutting by the driver before he returned to his position up front and drove away.

Alfred watched the limo disappear from sight. It's not like he cared if Ivan was with him or not, but it just meant that if he wasn't then he'd have to be babysat by his lackeys. Now, Alfred already couldn't stand Ivan so being around his henchmen made it all the worse.

Alfred sighed. It had been a long night and he'd rather not cause an issue with the men. It happened once and Ivan had to be called back early from a meeting with a business partner. Ivan hadn't been happy, and the explanations were a little hard to approve.

Ivan never touched Alfred though. No, he never once raised a hand to him like he had always foreseen whether through misunderstood or intended scenarios. Alfred knew Ivan could pack a punch, he's heard whispers from his men when they got a little tipsy and slurred out some English words about Ivan's younger years.

But, if there was one way to get the men to stay at bay it was to lock himself inside his and Ivan's hotel suite and inform them that he'd be bathing. A man or two had been replaced after Ivan learned of their snooping in on Alfred during his bath time. Now, they stayed as clear as possible and gave Alfred more than enough privacy.

Alfred had resorted to taking long hot baths, especially on nights like these. It was cold in Moscow, and the warm waters eased his already strained muscles. He liked to soak for hours, but he never actually cleansed himself in the bath.

Alfred opted to rinsing only. Any fragranced soap or shampoo he'd stay clear of. Why? Because they all smelled like Ivan. He tried to retain his own scent, but feared it would vanish all too soon.

Alfred inhaled the scent of just water and then submerged himself up to his lips. He closed his eyes and let his weariness settle him into a light nap. But of course he was awoken at the feel of gentle touches in his hair.

Opening his eyes Alfred blinked before squinting his eyes to behold what was being held in front of him. Looked like a watch. Looking up he noticed Ivan standing over him with a pleased smile on his lips.

"I have a present for you," Ivan informed, waving the watch before Alfred's face once more. He seemed unreasonably happy for—whatever time it was. "Raise your hand, let me put it on you."

Alfred did as commanded and let Ivan hook the leather around his wrist and then tap the glass of the watch face.

"Do you like it?" Ivan only smiled on, waiting for approval as he leaned against the porcelain tub.

Alfred examined it the best he could without his glasses. He offered a quick smile back at Ivan before frowning and sticking his arm over the side of the tub. "Isn't it best to give it to me later? A little wet here." Alfred's never ruined the things Ivan's given to him, and he didn't want to start now.

Ivan's hand reached out and caught Alfred's hands that attempted to unclasp the—no doubt expensive—watch. Alfred blinked up at him in confusion, but when Ivan brought his hands to his mouth and laid a few kisses on his knuckles and then one set kiss on his wrist right about the watch, he understood perfectly what the gift was for.

"It's waterproof," Ivan assured and then pulled Alfred's arm a little further, kissing him on his forearm.

Waterproof; that certainly seemed to give Ivan an excuse to join Alfred in the tub and settle between his legs. Alfred's hands had been doused with the cooling waters so much that the real state of the watch was forgotten. No, the sloshing waters overwhelmed nearly all of his senses. At first he had thought about concerning himself with the sound of so much liquid spilling over the tub and onto the tiled floors but he soon neglected care, just like Ivan.

"Oh!" Alfred moaned when fine teeth nibbled all the way down his neck, his body already slipping back and forth against Ivan's powerful thrusts. The water made it easier for him to slide into him, and Alfred wasn't complaining for the seemingly wasted bath water.

But Alfred came close, he came close to slipping underneath the shifting waters the more Ivan leaned over him. He would not let Alfred push back, and he would not stop his press over him. But the moment Alfred was inhaling the lukewarm waters he was being wrapped in Ivan's strong arms, his dick still inside him even when his back hit the soft comforter of their bed.

Alfred's lips parted to let out ragged pants the moment Ivan gripped his thighs and spread them apart to begin thrusting again. Their drenched bodies soaked the sheets underneath them, and their slippery skin sounded lovely in their echoing room, the wet smacks enticing both to hard arousal. Alfred blinked away the moisture in his eyes and looked up over Ivan looming over him, moving back and forth, taking his own pleasure from him but also giving Alfred the stretched fulfillment.

Alfred was tired that night, but still he was surprised by his own actions. He reached out to Ivan, feeling him too far away. He wrapped his hands around that scarred neck of his and pulled him down. Ivan let him pull him. Their chests collided and their lips and teeth clacked against each other.

The closer they were the harder Ivan thrust. It wasn't as hard as he could ram, Alfred would know, but the movements were pleasing that left Alfred sighing into the kiss while his hands roamed the expanse of his partner's back.

"Mm, mm!" Alfred groaned, his eyes rolling and his eyelids fluttering. He spread his legs as wide as he could, which happened to be much wider than he could previously. All of the sex has definitely helped him expand, not that he was proud of that or anything.

Ivan pressed his hands against his thighs when Alfred spread them, rubbing inside them just until one of his hands reached up and rubbed against his arousal. Alfred's lips pulled away from his to inhale a gasp only to be pursued by Ivan's mouth and attached again. Tongues met and danced while drinking in the leftover bathwater still cascading down their skin.

The water from Ivan's wet bangs dripped down onto Alfred, some of the hair even sticking to the man's forehead. Alfred's hair was already pushed out of his face by combing fingers that gripped at the base of his skull and held his head steady while the Russian molested the cavern of his mouth.

Panting moans and groans resounded all across the room and when Ivan moved both his hands to Alfred's hips to anchor him as he pressed in harder rams the sounds intensified. Alfred tossed his head to the side, angling his hips upward just as Ivan angled downward. He could feel his hot throbbing cock push in, tipping inside and nearly tickling his stomach. With his legs spread wide the arousal slipped as much of itself as it could inside. Alfred could already feel Ivan's sack bouncing against his ass, that's how close they were.

Alfred hooked his ankles around Ivan's waist, squeezing his thighs and pressing his calves against his backside to press him closer. Ivan seemed to like that, even more so he liked it when Alfred clamped his anal muscles around his penetrating shaft every time it pressed inside.

Alfred was trying to get Ivan to cum. The older saw this and grasped Alfred by the chin, making him look at him. Alfred relaxed his inward muscles for a moment, thinking he might have upset his lover, but Ivan simply smirked knowingly at him before leaning down and kissing him. When Alfred clenched himself again Ivan moaned in the kiss and came undone.

The bed creaked with Ivan's orgasmic thrusts. They've been in Russia for about four days and the bed's already held up five rounds of sex—oh, this makes six. Alfred wondered how much more it could hold, the bed was a sturdy thing however.

But when Ivan came, he would lean all of his weight into his thrusts and literally Alfred's body would lurch forward with each one as the Russian came down from euphoria. While he filled up Alfred, however, he wasn't too far gone to reach down and squeeze the boy until he threw his head back and released at the feel of the tight hand pressuring him and the essence stretching his insides.

"Mmmm," Alfred sighed out a hum when Ivan thrust in one last time, letting his seed ooze out around his softening cock before he pulled out completely and settled Alfred's hips back down onto the mattress. Alfred opened his eyes, looking up at Ivan while he caught his breath. He actually felt a little better, especially laying like that with his arms out and relaxed and his legs still spread wide and resting.

Alfred hummed contently when Ivan lazily rolled to the side, leaning himself sideways on his elbow only to have his other hand gently run down Alfred's naked body. His fingertips teasingly twirled around his nipples before dipping lower and pressing against his bellybutton only to pull at the blond hairs right underneath the naval. Alfred groaned at feeling his cock twitch—no, stay flaccid.

When Ivan flattened out his hand and rubbed just underneath his abdominal Alfred sighed in relief. But the hand traveled further, turning so knuckles rubbed against his cum splattered cock, elicited another twitch from the organ only for Ivan to move his hand back to Alfred's hips. It wasn't long before that hand slipped around and took a firm hold of one of Alfred's round globes.

Alfred let out a whining whimper, especially when Ivan pushed both of their hips together and squeezed harder. The American shivered at the sensation of a glob of cum slipping out of him from Ivan's movement. God, he just wanted to return back to the bathroom and clean himself out.

If there's one thing he's learned from being with Ivan is that if he was staying the night, or summer—however long Ivan wanted—then Ivan would hold him in bed and fall asleep with him. It had surprised Alfred the first time it happened, when he had been "invited" over to Ivan's Vermont estate. After the usual sex Alfred had hardly been able to sleep at all when Ivan pressed close, wrapped his arms around him and fell asleep.

Seeing it now, Alfred realized that it was because Ivan was _allowed_ to hold him throughout the night. He didn't have to worry about bringing him back in time for his classes or his restaurant job that Ivan continually demanded he quit now that he was taking care of his expenses. Alfred still wasn't quite sure it was endearing or just another show of Ivan's possessiveness.

But there Alfred was, being turned around with Ivan wrapping his arms around him and pressing his chest into his back. With such big strong arms tightened around him Alfred should feel safe, but that was never the case. Ivan was still a mob boss and Alfred knew just seeing him put his life in danger no matter how many secret eyes Ivan had on him.

Alfred just couldn't understand why Ivan hadn't grown bored of him. He wasn't useful in anything. All he did when he was with him was sit and look pretty.

It couldn't be love, right?

Ivan had already drifted off into a light slumber from the sound of his breathing as well as steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against Alfred's back. It usually took a little more time for Alfred to fall asleep because of the discomfort between his legs. He groaned and moved his legs a little before sighing and laying his head easier on Ivan's arm propped under him.

Ivan did always lay closest to the door, whichever room they resided in. Alfred didn't understand why. He felt that if he were facing the door then whenever the time came for the hitman to show up it'd be easier for Ivan to use him as a body shield.

Yet, there Alfred was, wrapped in Ivan's arms while his body curled around him with the Russian's back turned toward their bedroom door, as if to shield him from any dangers that had the possibility of entering. Made Alfred think that Ivan cared. Maybe he did, but Alfred didn't want to see it that way. Not with how unhappy he was with his life right now.

Alfred didn't know how, but somehow he fell asleep. He knew this because he too was awoken by the light rapping on the bedroom door. He felt Ivan stir behind him, reaching down and pulling up the linen sheets around their waists. He then felt Ivan lean up, one arm still wrapped around his torso while he turned his head to the door opening.

Ivan was speaking to one of his men. Alfred didn't know what they were saying or why it was so important to come in so early in the morning, it was still dark and Alfred felt exhausted. Whatever was said relaxed Ivan, Alfred could feel it in his hold. He could see it in his mind as Ivan nodded to his man and wished him off.

The door clicked shut and Ivan returned to press against Alfred. Alfred wasn't too frightened to let out an uncomfortable groan when Ivan pressed too close, as in both his arms wrapped tightly around his torso with his head resting on the side of Alfred's. Ivan practically engulfed him.

"You're the only one, Alfred." The American swore Ivan had said something in Russian so as to where he heard that from he didn't know. Maybe he knew more Russian than he thought. Might as well, he's been hanging around Ivan and his lackeys for too long as is.

Whatever it was, and whatever it meant could wait until morning. Alfred drifted off into sleep a few moments later.

Inevitably Alfred ended up discovering that Mr. Volkov's attitude toward Ivan was quite neutered after finding his little bitch chopped up where she lay next to him in bed. Alfred didn't know how the hitman managed it, but it definitely spooked the older Russian enough to sign over quite a few assets to Ivan and name him head of an unbalancing partnership.

It was funny really, because every night that he lay down with Ivan, Alfred always wondered when something like that would happen to him. He understood that Ivan was a very smooth and shifty mob boss, had one of the sharpest minds he's ever seen, but perhaps there were others out there smarter. Perhaps, perhaps not. Even if Ivan was the top dog, so to speak, that did not settle Alfred's unease in his life one bit.

"Come," Ivan had told Alfred the moment he led him outside into the cold snow-laden city. He placed a nice coat on his shoulders and pushed him toward the car awaiting them. Alfred hesitated for a moment, pressing the jacket slipped over him against his shoulders so not to lose it in the chilling wind. He had been cooped up in the hotel for many days after the incident with Mr. Volkov. Ivan had been out on his own dealing with other "friends" of his while he set many of his men to remain at the hotel and near his suite.

Alfred would be glad to get out if only the clouds hadn't dropped a heavy batch of snow just that morning. Plus, he was a little more concerned with moving around the city. He knew how nasty revenge could get if brought to that. Though, he wasn't so certain Mr. Volkov would resort to that after losing one measly consort—there were plenty other bitches to pick from in the country.

With another gentle but demanding push Alfred was ushered along into the limo.

Is it so wrong Alfred had a little high hopes that he'd get to see the city that day? It was his first time out of the country of his birth, even if he never wanted to leave the comfort of the good ole U.S. that didn't mean he couldn't try and enjoy the culture of the country he was residing in at the moment. Russia was a very old country and had many sights to show young visitors, but Alfred didn't let the disappointment get him too down when their ride drove right out of the city and onto the highway.

It's not like Alfred cared for the country of Ivan's birth. For all he cared Russia could have the man back. Alfred just wanted to go home now. He was not particularly enjoying his stay one bit.

They drove for a few hours before Alfred realized they were being brought into another old city. Naturally, Alfred's Cyrillic wasn't the greatest and so when his scanning eyes tried to translate the sign opening the new city Ivan simply spoke up, saying the name of the city.

"Saint Petersburg." Alfred turned toward Ivan who was sitting next to him. The limo was quite spacious for the both of them, but Ivan insisted on sitting close to him, one arm always on the headboard of the seat behind Alfred. When Alfred actually looked at Ivan he noticed the man's violet eyes on the city engulfing them as they drove deeper into it. A look of nostalgia passed over his features and Alfred swore he saw the hint of a smile quirk at the edges of his lips. "This is where I was born."

Alfred hadn't expected to be taken to the city of Ivan's birth—practically his hometown—nor the home in which he was raised. But there he was, getting out of the limo along with Ivan just as the light snow overhead stopped. It was a large house, of course many of Ivan's homes were large, but this seemed to bare old history and Alfred briefly wondered if it's been in the Braginsky name for a long time.

"Welcome home, sir." Alfred had been pulled back into the world around him when the caretaker of the home opened the door. Taking one look at Ivan he offered a formal bow of some sort but when he took in Alfred his eyes lit up in recognition even though Alfred's never seen this guy before. "Oh, you must be Alfred F. Jones. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." The servant even bowed to Alfred. He didn't like that.

The American certainly surprised the caretaker when he held out his hand in greeting. Blue eyes blinked down at the held out hand. It looked as if he didn't know what to do. That, or he was just not used to having his hand shook.

"It's nice to meet you too . . . ?" Alfred paused to give a hint for the other to answer with a name. Took a little while for that brain of his to tick.

"O-Oh, Eduard," the man said, reaching out cautiously and taking his hand to shake.

"Do not stand in the doorway all day. Do you want us to freeze?" There came Ivan's questioning but commanding tone. Both turned to him and immediately Eduard moved out of the way. He ushered them inside but mostly took to helping gather their luggage.

Ivan headed off to meet with the rest of the household leaving Alfred to wander around a bit. This house was definitely much different than the ones he's been in. He could just see the history aside from all of the family pictures.

There was one hall full of the pictures that caught Alfred's eye. He stopped and gazed at all of them. Some were paintings which answered Alfred's previous question of this being a main family home. The latter ones were what interested Alfred the most. Why? Because it was Ivan and his family. He was younger in some pictures and the latest one . . . why . . .

"There you are." Alfred turned to see Ivan walking toward him. "I had thought perhaps you had gotten lost. The house is big and you tend to have a poorer sense of direction than most."

Alfred frowned at the statement but the pictures still called to him and so turned his eyes back to them. "I didn't know you had sisters," Alfred pointed out, looking at the two younger women in the photos standing on both sides of Ivan while what looked to be their parents stood just behind.

Ivan turned and looked up at them. There was a soft smile just looking at them. Alfred didn't think he's ever seen him this sentiment before.

"Where are they?" Alfred wondered if they lived in the home. It was be nice to get to know them. He hoped they weren't anything like Ivan though.

"In a better place," Ivan answered, turning to look at Alfred. The boy rose a brow before Ivan turned and said, "Come."

Alfred thought that maybe he had been taken to Ivan's childhood home because his lover wanted him to see it, but in the end he realized it was just because Ivan needed to attend yet another gala. He held it in his home. Politicians came, CEOs came, all sorts of head honchos.

It always made Alfred wonder why Ivan intended to show his face to every official in the city. He had thought that mob bosses tended to remain in the shadows with only a name for information. Not Ivan, no, he was fearless—or just incredibly stupid.

Into the night Alfred did notice how the guests bore gifts upon Ivan. He thought that it was perhaps Russian curtesy or something; to give gifts to the host of the party. Later on he found out from Eduard that it was Ivan's birthday. He also understood that Ivan had no intention of celebrating it as extravagantly as this event was meant for him to mingle with the higher-ups, but word got around and soon everyone was offering money, cars, jewelry, all sorts of gifts to gain favor with Ivan.

Alfred hadn't expected the Russian's influence to be as high in the country as it was back in the States since Ivan hadn't been in Russia for decades. Interesting night to say the least. Still, he could tell that Ivan was inwardly upset over the turn of the party, Alfred knew he wanted to get to casual business, but with the event turned into that of a birthday party, why, it was hard for Ivan to say anything to anyone without them congratulating him on his day of birth or offering him an expensive gift.

"So . . . how old are you anyways?" Ivan had finally given up all approach to business that night and allowed his guests to coerce him into looking into his received presents, and so Alfred felt it easier to ask him this the moment he took a seat down at the table Alfred had taken for himself.

Amethyst eyes flickered from the open box revealing a high carat gold tie tac toward the American. The box closed with a voluminous "snap!" just as Ivan squared his shoulders and leaned back in his chair, his jaw tilting upward to make himself appear bigger—not that he needed to try. Alfred was slowly growing used to his show of playful intimidation, he'd yet to experience a tempered Ivan.

Ivan liked to stare, liked to see how long Alfred could hold his gaze. As of right then the time limit was four seconds. If Ivan didn't want to answer then Alfred would just pay attention to something else.

Since Alfred had decided to turn his eyes down and mess with the watch Ivan had given him earlier he hadn't noticed how kept Ivan remained, his gaze still on the American—which Alfred did feel by the way—and hand risen to motion a server to them. A spoken order here and soon enough Ivan was setting down a bottle of liquor and pushing two glass cups apart.

"You can guess," Ivan said, finally speaking up just as soon as Alfred turned his attention back toward him and the clinking glasses he held in his hands. "Or . . ." Ivan then pushed a glass in front of Alfred and poured him a generous amount of vodka. "You can try me at a game. If you win, I will tell you. If you lose . . ." Ivan smirked again the moment his eyes finished taking in Alfred's presenting appearance. "Well, you could always try just guessing."

Alfred looked at the offered drink and chance to discover Ivan's true age. It wasn't a fair game at all, especially since he hadn't taken a sip of alcohol at all in his life. He was still just nineteen years old. It was illegal.

But . . . he was in Russia . . .

Reaching out Alfred slowly took up the glass. He brought it to his nose to smell it but couldn't make out much of an odor. Slower still he tipped the edge of the glass to his lips and just as the moisture wet his top lip he heard Ivan speak once more saying, "And if things get out of hand we can always take our game to a more private area." Alfred's eyes flicked up at the Russian who was smiling in knowing, raising his glass in a cheer before downing the entire poured contents in one go.

Alfred was playing a losing game, he knew this. But he wanted to leave the party more than he wanted the inquiry of Ivan's number of days on the earth. He knew he'd probably make a fool of himself, but he also understood that Ivan would hide him should he cause too much of an embarrassment. What did Alfred have to lose?

It would take time for Alfred to hold his liquor. Perhaps vodka wasn't for him, but it was certain that Ivan would offer him other beverages in the future. Because a man who couldn't hold his drink wasn't a man at all, but a boy. Yes, Alfred was a boy, a mere college boy at the tender age of nineteen.

The drink did as Alfred had expected. It had urged Ivan to take him upstairs away from the chance of humiliating himself from his first round of drunkenness. The state left Alfred in a sort of high but he liked it. He liked it because he forgot every face he had seen in the country of Russia, and that it made the rough birthday sex with Ivan all the more bearable after loosening his nerves up.

He was sick the entire day the next day, and with a will that wished to keep to himself and clear the rest of the world away, why it did not help nor encourage his immune system to fight the offending sickness within his body at all. New Year's Day was when Ivan took Alfred and decided to return to America. Alfred slept the entire time on the plane ride. The moment they touched down the sickness had receded much more.

Alfred spent a few more days at Ivan's place and after a visit from a private doctor was deemed in better health.

The drive back to campus was held up with Ivan's chatter, mostly inquires about which part of Russia Alfred enjoyed the most. Alfred, of course, was completely honest in explaining to his Russian mob boss lover that he had been extremely restricted to residential areas and buildings of the elite that he hadn't the chance to take in Russia's famous tourist attractions, to which Ivan smiles at the response and instead gives Alfred the opportunity to travel back to the country of the older's birth sometime in the nearby feature for just luxury instead of business.

Alfred didn't want to return to Russia. He never made it clear with Ivan, but he didn't want to leave his own birth country again. All Alfred wanted was to get out of the limo and back to the college he had wanted to attend since middle school, but even that was proving difficult.

Ivan would not let Alfred go without a kiss goodbye. Alfred had offered him a quick one and made no protest to the Russian's teeth nipping at his lips or his tongue slipping into his mouth. As long as Ivan was satisfied then Alfred would be released.

But the way Ivan's hand sliding into his locks of hair and then tightening into a hold concerned Alfred for the length of the kiss, and the other rubbing against his neck all too quickly slid down to his hip, sneaky gloved fingers dipping into the waistband of his jeans. With his ass kneaded and Ivan tilting Alfred's head to deepen the kiss rising in temperature the college student knew he wouldn't be getting out of the vehicle anytime soon.

Alfred sucked in a hiss when that gripping hand pulled at his hair, forcing his head back for Ivan to lean down and attack his neck. Bites and sucks here and there leaving Alfred to hope none were visible enough to catch by his classmates. He felt the hand in his pants dip down between his crack and rub against his puckered hole. It was loose enough to allow a finger to easily slip inside but the texture and feel of the glove annoyed Alfred as it did Ivan.

The hand was pulled away immediately and Alfred watched as Ivan pulled the glove off of his hand with his teeth before dropping the covering onto his lap and returning his hand back into Alfred's pants were two fingers replaced the first prodding one. Alfred let out an open-mouthed groan, though it was a little difficult letting the noise slip out seeing how Ivan's hand in his hair practically arched his neck backwards.

As soon as the third dry finger entered the grip in his hair released allowing Alfred to balance his head upright again. Ivan's free hand went to work on the American's jeans. Blue eyes watched in habit while Ivan's hand unbuckled his belt and unzipped him. Ivan pulled off that glove as well and let his cold hand dip back into Alfred's pants, pulling his member out and encouraging it to stiffen under his strong and rubbing grip.

Alfred's eyes flicked back up toward Ivan. Their gazes met. Ivan's looked downright lustful and Alfred always the reluctant one. No matter what, Ivan couldn't see this—or at least refused to see it.

Alfred was his to do with as he pleased. That was all that mattered to the Russian mob boss.

For someone as old as Ivan—Alfred distinctly remembered hearing the man whisper, "Thirty-eight," on the night of his birthday after multiple rounds of paralyzing sex—the American was sure surprised he had so much libido. He, himself, was still technically a teenager after all and so one might think him to be the active one, but many times he just couldn't keep up with Ivan's demands. Slowly but surely Alfred was learning how to hold out and recover quicker but the "training" was simply draining him.

Ivan pressed his fingers deeper and then pulled out a little. He wanted Alfred to roll his hips into him and Alfred did so out of obedience. He frowned at the dry feel of it all and Ivan likely took notice but neglected to do something about it.

Eyes closed the moment those probing fingers rubbed against his prostrate. Alfred inhaled a moan through his teeth and shook when Ivan added his fourth finger. When Ivan's hand left Alfred's hardened dick Alfred opened his eyes at the sound of Ivan reaching over to the cabinets next to them. Passed the bottles of liquor and cup glasses there was also stashed a private compartment for Ivan and Alfred only.

Condoms; Alfred knew Ivan hated the latex things, but there were exceptions. Like, for instance, when they banged in the vehicle, Ivan was meticulous in making sure everything was kept clean. To making sure muddy boots were wiped before entrance to hands washed before touching the clear glasses, Ivan was a perfectionist in this. The same rules applied to sex, and sex always got messy for the both of them and so Alfred expectedly watched Ivan rip the condom packet open with his teeth and pull out the rubber.

With one-handed skill he slipped the cover over Alfred's cock. Afterwards he gave Alfred a good few strokes for being so pliant. Alfred simply pouted. He hadn't wanted to get down and dirty with Ivan right before returning to campus. No matter if the windows were tinted Alfred could still see the other students already piling in—and he should be among them.

While his pout was meant to remain to himself Ivan seemed to have caught it. The Russian leaned forward and captured those lips, sucking on them before pulling back ever so slightly with a smile.

"I will be quick, solnechnyy svet," Ivan assured.

Right after the statement the fingers inside Alfred were pulled out. A soft gasp left his mouth the moment Ivan pushed him off of his lap. Alfred landed on the longer seat to the side but before he could even sit back up properly Ivan took hold of his hips and twisted him around with Alfred having nothing but the back of the seat and side cabinets to grip onto.

Alfred's jeans and boxer briefs were quickly yanked down to his knees. He felt a kiss touch the small of his back before Ivan's cold breath cascaded over his spine, sending shivers up it until the sensation struck the pleasure sensors inside his brain. Alfred moaned involuntarily, especially when the feeling rebounded right back down to his twitching groin. Alfred rolled his hips up against the leather seat he was leaned over and moaned again when his covered cock rubbed against the fabric.

Alfred turned his head at the sound of a "pop." He was glad to see Ivan lathering himself up for the penetration. Dry penetration sucked balls. Alfred would literally rather deep-throat Ivan for days straight than go through that experience again.

At the feel of Ivan's cock pressed against his prepped entrance Alfred could already feel the smooth feel of the condom. He didn't really like the feel of it either, but it was cleaner and helped him get back into his right state of mind quicker than having to worry about Ivan's over-burdensome amount of cum shot up his ass.

"Huh!" Alfred coughed out a grunt when Ivan slid himself inside him, not even taking a moment to stop. He simply kept sliding in until he was fully settled inside him. Ivan was big as he was long, a good eleven or so inches Alfred would say so he was definitely restraining chokes when his oh-so-considerate lover decided to quickly join to him.

When Ivan rested his jaw on Alfred's shoulder the younger heard him let out a pleased sigh. The arms tightening around his torso controlled the movement. When they tightened and pulled Alfred was meant to press back into Ivan, when their constriction loosened Alfred was allowed to buck forward. The American's been through the ropes, he knew what he was doing.

Alfred spread his legs to his best ability, but with his jeans and boxers bundled up just at his knees it wasn't easy. The restriction seemed to let Ivan enjoy him thoroughly though. Alfred felt tighter because of it all and so Ivan bucked into him harder, sometimes opting to grind more than thrust.

If Alfred felt tighter because of the lack of movement then Ivan felt more so expansive. Alfred moaned into his arm at the feel. He swore it almost felt like he was a virgin again. Thank God he wasn't. Now that he's loosened the sex was easier to manage and mentally maintain.

The cock inside him did rub against his prostrate with ease. Alfred could feel every inch of the rod this way and with Ivan's testicles striking his own, why, it was no wonder he was pressing back with such abandon.

When Alfred opened his eyes and peered out into the streets of cars unloading students and their belongings he felt suddenly alienated. How could he say he belonged with all of those young overachievers? His life was so fucked up right now that they possibly couldn't understand the mental struggle it was every day just to wake up, go to a job he was harassed into quitting, study and attend classes, only to afterwards go into the arms of a man who was not only unashamed of being a dastardly criminal but a man who didn't even bat an eye at how he was forcing Alfred into a relationship with him. God, Alfred hoped he was the only one ever unfortunate enough to go through this.

Inhaling another moan just when Ivan's hand reached down and gripped his dick Alfred bit into his jacket sleeve. He understood Ivan liked to hear his voice, but he was certain the driver was still seated in the front. Alfred knew he was just another lackey of Ivan's and that he could care less for his boss fucking his young lover in the back of the limo, but Alfred didn't feel it necessary to let him hear him. God knew if he was watching them behind that tinted frontal window.

That was another thing Alfred simply couldn't understand; why Ivan's men, cohorts, and other such acquaintances couldn't seem to take their eyes off of him. It wasn't like Alfred was pretty. It wasn't like Alfred had the perfect body. It wasn't like he had the sexiest accent either. So then why did they all stare so much?

"Aha!" The louder moan slipped from Alfred accidentally while he tossed his head to the side. The other of Ivan's arms unwrapped from him, this one falling to his hips, its fingers digging into his tanned skin and pulling him back quicker onto the Russian's cock.

To Alfred's shame he liked it a little bit faster and harder. When Ivan had went all out on him the American was practically paralyzed for days. But right now, Alfred's eyes rolled and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"I-Ivan, oh!" Alfred panted out moans, turning his head to look at his lover, his dark eyes pleading he kiss him.

Ivan let go of Alfred's cock and pinched the boy's chin, pulling him close into the kiss he had wanted. Now Alfred pressed closely against the seat he was pinned to, rutting into it to get any sort of friction for his cock while his ass was worked open by Ivan's demanding cock. He moaned into Ivan's mouth and clenched his anal muscles, delighted that one of Ivan's own moans vibrated down into his own throat.

Alfred let out a sigh when the kiss ended, the fingers gripping his chin let go and now that hand was rubbing his neck, caressing his collarbone while Ivan leaned forward and kissed his neck and then his shoulders. When Alfred reached out behind him with his right arm his fingers found purchase in the fabric of Ivan's pants, they gripped tightly, almost pulling to get Ivan closer.

Alfred really was surprised to find Ivan's caressing hand falling down to his other hip only to pull his bucking pelvis away from the seat and then sneak his hand to Alfred's dick once more, gripping and squeezing and pumping in time with the older's thrusts. A shrill cry left Alfred's lips before he bit his bottom lip to suppress his sounds for any perverts around to hear. His forearm he had been biting into bent and reached behind him to tangle his fingers into ashen colored locks, pulling at Ivan, keeping him close.

"Oh, oh, ah!" Saliva dripped downed Alfred's opened mouth onto the seat head leaving it moist enough for the American's chin to slide up and down against it along with Ivan's thrusts. Against Alfred's self-control the noises escaped him, as had all concern of others hearing him. When Ivan thrust back in and rammed his cockhead against his prostrate Alfred tossed his head back and let out a cry of pleasure. He pressed back into that feeling and was met with another ramming thrust.

Ivan's rubbing hand reached down and took a hold of Alfred's testicles, squeezing and then pulling. Alfred jumped at the sudden grasp but that didn't deter him from moaning again. Ivan's other hand on his hip moved as well, reaching downward to take a good hold of one of Alfred's ass cheeks and pull it apart to give him more room to move. A little more of Ivan slipped into Alfred and they both moaned in unison, both shivered in delight and both pressed hard against each other.

The moment Alfred turned his head to take in Ivan's expressions his lips were seized. His eyes fluttered, his mind in a daze as teeth bit into his lips and pulled before a larger tongue invaded his mouth. After nearly choking on the muscle Alfred's mind shook with electric jolts from the way Ivan's hand rubbed him, twisting his skin at the base like a screw before rubbing up until those large fingers pinched the head, pulling on the layer of the condom before snapping it back against the red irritated dick.

Alfred jumped at the action that also encouraged a harder thrust from the cock penetrating him. It was too much and Alfred came undone while clinging to Ivan. He felt himself let go, felt his anal muscles clench unbearably around the hard throbbing organ inside him making it a little difficult for Ivan to move, but the man had such powerful thrusts that the bucks really came down to a normal speed now instead of the earlier rushed frenzy. Ivan sighed in his ear at the reaction and gripped Alfred's cock tighter while it spilled the built up seed.

Ivan held the condom's ends tightly, feeling Alfred fill up the rubber quickly. When Alfred had nothing more to give and his cock began softening Ivan slipped the condom off of him and discarded the item in a close trash compartment while he, himself, finished off. Just as Alfred began relaxing while his nerves settled Ivan released himself.

Alfred closed his eyes and inhaled a calming breath at the feel of Ivan's expanded cock and the filling condom inside. He hoped this one held, one didn't before and the mess it made upset Ivan more so than Alfred who had ended up showing up late for classes after having to cleaning himself out firstly. Alfred just wanted to hit his dorm again and relax, he's already had enough showers to last him a lifetime and it was getting to be a chore.

Alfred heard Ivan let out a pleased sigh while he pulled out of him. The American laid still, just listening while Ivan pulled the condom off of himself, discarded it and then fixed himself back inside his pants. Even after Ivan had buckled up Alfred laid there. He now realized how utterly exhausted he was. Just flat out tired.

There was rustling behind him. Alfred closed his eyes. They felt heavy and he about passed out right there in the limo in that position hadn't something cold jolted him to consciousness.

Alfred zipped his head around to see Ivan holding a wet cloth in his hand, rubbing between Alfred's legs to wipe up the leftover lubricant. Once the task was done Ivan tossed the cloth away and then moved away from Alfred, allowing him to fix himself properly. Alfred did so as quietly as possible.

The door was opened right when Alfred had wanted to depart. He looked outside and wondered if he could even make it across campus to the dormitories. He sighed, might as well try.

In his slight hesitation to move Alfred felt Ivan reach out and take up his hand. Turning, Alfred watched the Russian man smile at him and then kiss his knuckles. He kissed his hand two more times before offering a squeeze and then releasing the American.

Alfred didn't watch them leave this time. No, Ivan usually stayed until Alfred entered into the dorm building, so Alfred learned to walk away with those ever-watchful eyes boring into his back.

Alfred finally learned how to breathe again when he got to his room and closed it shut with his back leaning against it for support. He let himself remain there, catching his breath while his arms hung to his sides. When he finally managed the strength to lift his eyelids again he noticed his roommate had already made it to the dorm first.

"Ah, Kiku, how is it, ma man?" Alfred's pulled grin was utterly weak, as was his attempted cheerful tone. God, was he exhausted.

Kiku simply examined him with that too-knowing gaze before he took up a letter in his hand and walked over to Alfred. Thank the Lord he didn't make him walk over there to him!

"Professor Kirkland came by earlier and asked for you," Kiku spoke up. He was normally a stoic kind of guy, but the way he moved and the way he frowned concerned Alfred. Kiku knew more than he was letting on and his worry for Alfred was clearly showing. "He asked me to give this to you when you arrived. I hadn't expected you back for quite some time."

Once again Alfred offered a pathetic smile. "No layovers this time," he excused just as he opened the note and read his teacher's fancy handwriting. Alfred sighed and bumped his head back against the door with a groan.

"What is wrong?" Kiku wasn't one to pry, but his concern was seeping out.

Alfred raised the note. "Wants to see me," he said in reference to their professor. "Let me rest for a little bit before I go."

Alfred took a nap, a long nap, before managing to scoop up what little rest he'd recovered and head over to the Brit's office. When he got there, Mr. Kirkland didn't look the slightest bit happy.

"Alfred . . ." Professor Kirkland had started out but sighed and looked away for the right words to say. He then looked back toward where Alfred was seated and took in his weary state. "How are you fairing, lad? Work too troublesome for you these day?"

Alfred rose a brow. "No, the Vargas' are amazing bosses. Best job of my life really. If anything it's the customers that give me a hard time." _Especially one in particular_, Alfred mentally added with an internal grumble.

"I see." Professor Kirkland nodded his head and then looked for something else to speak about. "How goes the family? All healthy and upright I hope."

Alfred shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't gotten to speak with his family too much, most of his free time had been taken up by Ivan, but the last he had heard from them they sounded well. "They're doing fine," Alfred answered. "My little bro got into the college he wanted to. Yep, all the way in Canada." Alfred chuckled at the thought; ain't no way he'd visit him. Canada and Russia just sounded too similar—fucking ice boxes.

"Really? Well, that's good to hear." Even though Mr. Kirkland was smiling Alfred could tell something else was wrong. "Say, you're, what, coming up on twenty? Should think you have a little sweetheart right about now."

Alfred shrugged again. "Birthday's not 'til July, but, no, I ain't got a girl."

"Honestly?" The professor looked surprised. "Why, you're a handsome young lad and I have sharp ears. All the girls on campus talk about you."

Alfred blinked. "Really?"

The Brit nodded. "You're the most eligible bachelor on campus. All of the girls have been batting their eyelashes at you. Didn't you take notice?"

"Not really," Alfred replied. Really? Him? Most eligible? Did they really think he was that much of a hunk?

"Yes, even some of the fellows, if you know what I mean," Professor Kirkland added while clearing his throat. He smiled again, nervously almost. "You're sure nothing's caught your mind recently?"

"Professor." Alfred met the older man's green eyes. "What's . . . wrong?"

Professor Kirkland stilled and then hung his head with a sigh. He turned around and swung back in his seat behind his desk. Folding his hands he looked away from Alfred and said, "Now, Alfred, I'm not sure if you know this but you're one of my brightest students. Have been since you first arrived."

"I'm sure you say that to _all_ your students," Alfred replied with a chuckle, trying to lighten the Englishman's mood from whatever was dampening it.

"No," Professor Kirkland dejected. He looked quite serious now, his gaze meeting Alfred's. "Do you ever check your grades, Alfred? You're in the top ten on campus."

Again Alfred blinked in surprise. His busy schedule as of late stopped him from checking, so it wasn't his fault he didn't know.

"Come to congratulate me then?" Alfred really didn't know why the British man was fussing over him if he was doing just fine in his classes.

Professor Kirkland sighed again, shaking his head. "I spoke with the other professors and they all decided it best I speak with you. We don't know what to do, Alfred. We're just as upset as you are."

"Upset over what?" Alfred didn't get it. Was it against school code to be damn good in grades?

"It has to be something," Professor Kirkland muttered to himself before meeting Alfred's gaze again. "You're certain there's no distraction in your life. Family, friends. Is it drugs, Alfred?"

"Whoa, whoa!" Alfred practically backed up in his chair. Had he just been accused of being a druggy? "Drugs? What the hell, Professor Kirkland? What is this all about?"

When those green eyes glanced down Alfred saw real pity emit out of the older man. "You're failing, Alfred."

Alfred felt his heart stop.

"Miserably so," Professor Kirkland announced. He sighed, rubbing his face before clasping his hands together. "The other teachers and I noticed a sheer plummet from April of last year. Did something happen, Alfred? We all just want you to succeed. You want to be a scientist, that is great, but you can't if you fail everything you need to learn to achieve your dream."

April, huh? Alfred chuckled inwardly at the irony. He should have known seeing Ivan would put a strain on his studies. He just didn't know how bad it was until now.

"I'm . . . failing?" Alfred still couldn't believe in the word. He's always thought that he'd one day graduate from college so the notion of failing wasn't in his vocabulary.

Mr. Kirkland nodded. "Yes. But, don't you understand, Alfred, it's likely you letting something else pull your attention away from your studies. If you share what it is I'm sure we could find a solution in ridding it. Come on, lad, what is it, what's keeping you from success?"

The more Alfred thought about the root cause for his current predicament his head began to shake. It was soft at first before his neck craned just by shaking it so harshly.

"No, no, I can't," Alfred informed.

Mr. Kirkland founded and leaned back in his chair. "So it is something."

Alfred looked at the professor who looked rather disappointed. The Brit rolled his shoulders and sighed. "We can't favor you, Jones, if you rank low in grades more we'll have to fail you. Do you want your parents' savings to go to waste?"

"Of course not," Alfred replied. "But you don't understand that I can't . . . I can't just _leave_."

A large brow rose. Slowly Professor Kirkland leaned forward again, his elbows touching the oak desk before him. "So, it is someone. Alfred, while I am not against courting, I will not stand for the relationship to take precedence over grades. It's simply a foolish thing to do."

"No, no, I can't," Alfred said once more.

Professor Kirkland sighed again. He rubbed his mouth and then looked at the downcast boy before him. "Is this relationship more important than your college degree? Take my advice and bring it to an end. It's for your own good."

Alfred knew it was, but his Professor just didn't understand, and not being able to tell him the reason brought tears to his eyes that shined in the desk lamplight. When he rose his head he knew that Mr. Kirkland had caught the shine of the moisture in his blue eyes, he could tell by the way those green eyes of his widened ever so slightly.

Rolling his shoulders and smiling pitifully Alfred responded with the habitual, "I can't, Professor Kirkland. I just . . . I just can't."


	3. His to Keep

**DOTR: Thanks again for all of the lovely reviews! They really keep me going :D I'm super glad everyone is enjoying this extremely dubious fic, I'm having fun writing it myself.**

**As usual, the warnings are the same, but there will be Het in here as well as other triggering events. Can't outright tell you, you'll just have to read. I did say it was going to get dark, so here it is~**

* * *

Ivan was out of town and Alfred was feeling particularly nostalgic that day. So he grabbed the keys to the Maybach Exelero Ivan had given him on his birthday and walked out of the home. He could really care less if he was followed. He knew he would be, but he had nothing to hide—not when Ivan knew everything about him already.

Alfred hadn't seen his home in a long time. It would do his heart good to see the town again. He was right too. The smile on his lips hadn't been felt in ages and just seeing all the new faces in town made his being lighter.

Sitting there at the small café didn't draw too much attention to himself. He parked his ride blocks away, far from gawking spectators. Of course his attire would be called to attention if the wide-eyed passerby-ers had the courage to stop by for a curious chat.

He thought about passing by his parents place but didn't want to risk them actually seeing him. He frowned at the thought of them, his gaze turning down from the smiling pedestrians until it landed on his ordered drink set near his hand. He hadn't seen his parents or his brother in so long that he became unnerved at the mere idea of looking at them.

It was understandable, after all, he made sure to excommunicate himself from them after everything that's happened to him which they didn't take very well—but it was honestly all for their own good. They didn't want a son involved in the mafia, no, that would definitely tarnish their name and so Alfred simply took the initiative first before they found out such wretched things and distanced himself, promptly ignored every phone call from them, even scouting visits they had attempted at seeing him. No, he'd have none of that.

With no other reason to remain in town except for reminiscing on the shops he used to work at when he was in high school, or the movie theatre he had pulled the fire alarm to and landed himself in the newspaper for the worst tardiness in decades—yeah, it was _that_ kind of a town—Alfred simply had no other reason to stay. He would have gotten up to leave had his body moved, but there he sat, still and seated. He didn't want to go back "home." Didn't enjoy the mansion one bit and Ivan always wanted him in a single spot when he left out of town, so, no heading to the coast to enjoy some sun at their beach resorts or up in the mountains for some alone—or, as alone as Alfred could get—time and fishing.

So, Alfred ended up staying at that small little café at the corner of Main Street before someone took notice of him who wasn't afraid to approach him in all his lavished person.

"Alfred?"

His head shot up quickly, eyes wide and scanning his surroundings in recognition of that voice. Couldn't be . . .

Alfred blinked in disbelief. "Lien?" Yet, there the Vietnamese was, standing before him, a drink of her own in hand. She was just as wide-eyed as Alfred.

She smiled, larger than he remembered she ever had before. When she sat down quickly at the small two-chair-table he lounged at he straightened himself. Suddenly, he felt criticized and intimidated by her stare, even if it was smiling along with the rest of her happy features.

"I didn't know you were in town," she spoke up, her tea in hand completely forgotten, left to cool while the Asian woman set her attention on an old friend.

Alfred offered a short-lived smile that only pinched the corner of his lips. He really had expected to look around and then be off. He didn't want to cause any unnecessary drama. "Was a spur of the moment kind of thing. I thought for sure you'd be back in Vietnam."

She smiled, nodding her head. "I enjoyed this country a lot, and its people." Her amber eyes glanced up toward Alfred at the mention of that. He wasn't sure if he saw a faint blush on her pale face, but he quickly dismissed it, after all it's been . . .

"You got a citizenship?" Alfred's eyes widened even more. He hadn't expected that of the once-exchange student.

Lien nodded her head silently again. She quieted after that. She looked as if she didn't know what else to say. Her grip on her cup clenched and unclenched multiple times.

"So, you live here now?" Alfred felt sorry for the poor girl. She'd never been too great with conversations and seeing how they hadn't seen each other in so long it was understandable why she was rusty in speaking with him, especially after how their last conversation ended.

Lien nodded again, her eyes glancing up at him again. "I liked this town. I have many people I know here, some family, many friends." She offered a weak smile before her eyes glanced down to the extravagant ring on Alfred's finger. "I heard from your parents that you had gotten married some years back."

At the mention, Alfred's hand seemed to dart back into his other hand's hold. His fingers automatically played with the golden band wrapped around his third finger. It wasn't easy to miss, Ivan made sure to stud the piece of symbolic jewelry with numerous diamonds, as well as engrave his name inside the band. It was a shiny thing to gain attention and sway wandering ideas. Just another message that Alfred was taken.

"Congratulations." Lien's voice brought Alfred out of his thoughts. He looked back up at her over designer lenses. "Your parents also told me of your sudden shift in . . . orientation." Lien looked somewhat disappointed in that, but she still gave Alfred a pleasant smile. Her eyes darted back toward the wedding band Alfred was twirling around, her gaze lingered on it—longer than others usually had. "It looks like he's well to do."

Alfred didn't answer verbally. He simply nodded, his mind off on the blood money surrounding his "husband" and everything that he owned was bought by such.

The Vietnamese could have asked why Alfred hadn't invited his family to the wedding, but she steered from the question his parents and brother had been trying for years to contact him to answer just that. Instead, she showed utter respect for Alfred's marriage. Alfred wondered if she was forcing interest on herself. He liked to think he still knew her, and the Lien he knew wouldn't so much as care about the marriage life of an ex-lover.

"So, how did to the two of you meet?" Lien was honestly curious how long Alfred had known his husband.

Alfred chuckled. "It's a funny story really." Completely _hilarious_.

"Really?"

"Sure," Alfred added. "Was at college. Couple months before I turned nineteen. Was working at an Italian restaurant at the time for college expenses. He was a regular and he just . . . swept me off my feet one walk home after night classes." That was literally the truth, and Alfred couldn't help but laugh at it. He'd come to understand a long time ago how "romantic" it sounded when in reality it was the most frightening experience he's ever been put through.

"That's nice," Lien spoke up, still smiling at the horrible tale of how Alfred met Ivan. "You married after school?"

Alfred nodded again. Still mindlessly fiddling with his wedding band, remembering everything still so clearly no matter how long it's been. "After school he proposed." And the rest was history really.

Ivan had found out about Alfred's failing grades. The American hadn't told him though, no, he tried his best to handle to problem himself, but a weary body often equated in a weary mind and so he continued to fail his classes like his professor had predicted. When Ivan found out, instead of being the considerate lover like any reasonable partner would be to the one they care about and leaving Alfred to his space to catch his grades, instead, Ivan told Alfred not to worry about his degree slipping out of his grasp.

Alfred graduated with his class with a degree he didn't deserve. He had flunked, miserably so. But, Ivan had connections and ways of twisting the Dean to his will. Alfred was passed with flying colors he didn't earn and given the degree of the field he longed to work in.

But even the dream of attempting to get a job among other scientists evaded him when Ivan proposed to him on graduation day. Alfred had been so pale he almost fainted—he was certain Ivan had thought the change of color was out of sheer and utter happiness. Of course he would think that.

So, once more Alfred's shackles were tightened. Who would have thought the life of luxury and riches could be the illusion of a real prison cell?

Alfred and Ivan married shortly after the proposal with it being simply a small quiet ceremony even though Ivan had wished for Alfred's family to attend. That had been the first thing Alfred's ever denied the Russian of. He simply refused to let his family see him like this or even meet the dangerous mob boss, and so Ivan settled for just sending them greetings.

That's how Alfred's parents and brother found out he had been married. After that the calls and attempts to contact online came, which prompted Alfred to shut down his Facebook and other accounts, as well as delete all his contacts and get a new phone. He didn't want to remove himself from his family, but he felt it would protect them much more. It had been hard on him, and still the thought of seeing them again ached his heart, but he'd learned to live with it.

Alfred's twenty-five years old now. He's been married to Ivan Braginsky for the past four years.

"Well, I'm sure you're happy." Lien smiled at Alfred again. Alfred was growing sick of those smiles. Everyone he's ever talked to after finding out about his marriage smiles at him like that, congratulating, condoling it. But he kept his lips silent. Not that anyone would believe him if he told them the true story.

Alfred didn't say anything in return. Instead, he changed the subject. "How's mom and pops? You seen them around?"

Again, Lien could have asked why he didn't just return to the house and check in on them himself, but she kept to herself and simply answered what questions were asked to her best ability.

"I saw them at the store the other day. They seemed well," she replied. "I saw your brother a few months ago. He was visiting. Already found a permanent place to stay in Canada."

Alfred chuckled at the thought. "Always knew he'd migrate more up north."

Lien laughed along with him before she looked down at her watch. Her eyes widened. Quickly drinking the rest of her tea the best she could she stood up.

"I'm so sorry to be leaving so soon, but I need to get back to the studio," she said after tossing her drink away.

"Didn't want to keep you anyways. Was good to see you," Alfred said, smiling softly at the woman. It was good seeing her again.

Lien froze just as she turned on her heel. Slowly, she turned back around toward Alfred who was playing with his own cup of coffee. She reached up and slid her purse more securely on her shoulder and glanced to her side in nervousness.

"If you would like . . . it would be a pleasure to show you to my studio," she offered.

"You have a studio?" Alfred looked taken aback. He stood without thinking, sticking his hands in his pant pockets. "Yeah, yes, I'd love to see it."

And Lien took him. It was a cute little studio near the edge of the main shopping district. Pottery. Lien's always fancied pottery.

Alfred smiled at the colorful place, even more so at how Lien placed her purse and other belongings on a shelf in the back only to return with an armful of clay pots. He watched her begin placing them down on small tables before he stepped closer.

"Getting ready for a mass painting?"

The Vietnamese nodded. "I host a foster children program. Gives them something to do after school." Alfred was thoroughly impressed.

"Why don't I help?" Alfred offered. Paint and clay to ruin his nice tailored clothing . . . why the hell not?

He should have gone back, Alfred knew it. The servants would be worried if he wasn't present for dinner, but Alfred was certain eyes were on him. They always were, so he wasn't sure why everyone concerned themselves with his well-being.

So there Alfred stood after preparations were finished, watching on in silence while buses unloaded kids who skipped and hopped into the studio with their caretakers. Everyone was sat down and buckets of paint shared. Alfred didn't know when he had moved away from his isolated corner and joined the fun, but he was glad he did.

Lien darted back and gasped when Alfred had poked her cheek with a paintbrush already dipped in white paint. That wouldn't stand for her, so she dipped her finger in a squirt of red paint and bopped him on the nose with it. He blinked in surprise but when she began laughing he took the motion as well.

"Is this your boyfriend, Ms. Lien?" one of the cute chubby-faced children asked while he mindfully painted superhero emblems on his pot.

Lien's pale face couldn't hide that blush this time. It faded all too quickly before shaking her head at the adorable curious child. "No, he's a close friend though."

"Jason, how can he be Ms. Lien's boyfriend? He's already married," a little girl across the table spoke up after pointing to Alfred's all-too-visible wedding ring.

Suddenly the subject of marriage enticed the children at table eleven into a conversation. Sheesh, kids were getting smart now-a-days.

"My mom used to say marriage is a burden," a little boy at the end of the table spoke up, waving his brush around.

"That's because she didn't have no husband," one feisty little red-headed girl spoke up, placing her hands on her hips. "My nana told me you don't get married unless you're really, really happy."

"Come, children," Lien spoke up to stop a riot at the table. God only knew these children didn't need to be speaking about such subjects with how their lives were in the present. "Mr. Alfred's a happily married man. There's no burdens when one marries, he's very happy. Right, Alfred?"

All eyes were on the American now. Of course Alfred would pull out a smile that hid his secrets. "Yeah," he answered.

"You don't sound so happy," another little boy pointed out.

"He's just had a long day," Lien spoke for the blond.

"Grown-ups sure do get tired a lot," the same little boy mentioned while the other children agreed and then began speaking about how many naps their caretakers take a day.

Lien laughed at the children, turning to Alfred before taking up a rag and attempting to wipe the red off of his nose. "Sorry about that," she said. "You know how kids are."

"It's fine," Alfred said, his eyes turning back to the little munchkins. He's always loved children. "You're great with them, Lien. You always were the best babysitter in school."

Lien blushed again. She smiled afterwards and looked at the children. "It's not easy to keep this studio open," she mentioned. "But just to see their smiling faces it's worth it."

"Nonprofit?" Alfred questioned.

Lien nodded.

"How do you manage?"

Lien shrugged. "Mostly through donations. I do some side work too to keep up with the expenses the donations don't cover."

Alfred frowned. Now that he understood that he could see some things in need of repair around the studio. The back needed fixed up, some lights replaced, as well as updated systems in the place. Lien was just being polite in leaving out the part in how hard it was to maintain the program.

Looking back at the children all painting away at their designated tables Alfred could tell Lien didn't want to give anything up. She'd probably continue even if the repairs got so bad the walls fell off. Yep, sounded like Lien to him. Always, so quietly stubborn.

With a sigh Alfred pulled out his wallet. He always stuffed a couple hundred dollar bills in there. He pulled out all six of them and handed them to Lien. They were near the counter in the back, so it wasn't like anyone was watching Alfred give this to her.

Lien's eyes widened. She rose her hands to stop him from giving her the money. "Alfred, what are you doing?"

"I'm donating," he replied. "Look, I've got plenty more where this came from. Don't worry about it. Accept this from a friend."

Lien looked tempted. Alfred saw that considering look in her eye. But she turned, looking back toward the children. "I can't," she insisted. "I don't beg, Alfred."

The American sighed, his shoulders slumping. "You need this, Lien. Just take it."

"I won't," she said, turning her head slightly back to him, her arms crossing her front of her loosely. "I'm sorry if I made you feel obliged to help, but it was not what I intended."

"You can't take a gift from a friend?" Alfred waved the money at her again. Who didn't want money?

Lien sighed. Finally, she turned back to him. Once more she pushed her hand outward and pressed the money away, pressed Alfred's giving hand away.

"I'll manage," Lien assured. She offered a smile to Alfred, but Alfred's seen those kind of smiles before—they were always quick to hide something, those smiles he smiled himself many a time.

Alfred sighed. He subtly glanced around for a place to perhaps stash the doe when Lien wasn't looking. But, knowing her, even if she did find it when he was long gone she wouldn't use it. He knew her too well. She hadn't changed.

The sigh that left her lips made Alfred keep up with her expressions. She turned to him again, her arms falling back to her sides before she took up two rags, tossing one to him.

"I think the kids are done painting. Care to help clean them up?" Yep, that smile to hide the struggles Alfred knew well, but, like the others who took notice of his internal distress he simply smiled back and quietly stood alongside her to clean the flailing children who enjoyed the painted skin.

Lien informed that it always took hours to clean up the rest of the studio even after the children had left. She hadn't been lying. The sun was already setting the moment they had finished.

"Thank you so much, Alfred. I really appreciate all you've done," Lien spoke up after she placed the mop out in the back to dry. "Just being here and helping out is all I could ask for."

Alfred offered a quick smile. He enjoyed the time spent there. He enjoyed watching the children paint and bicker to themselves—enjoyed seeing them get away from strained households and memories for a few hours—in a way he felt like those children. Lien really did have a nice program going on for them. It'd be a shame to see it close.

This thought alone had Alfred wishing Lien her best and leaving town. Living a life like he did now ensured him to be able to rub elbows with a few higher-ups in and out of country. This is exactly what Alfred was relying on.

"Ah, Alfred, mon cher, how have you been?" Francis opened his arms out and puckered his lips to kiss him in the usual French way. Of course Alfred paid mind to keep his distance.

"Ah, Francis, you know Ivan doesn't like it when you kiss me," Alfred reminded. Present or not, Ivan's will was to be done.

The Frenchman's shoulder's slumped with a sigh. He eyed the large bodyguards near Alfred at the charity event with him. He knew better, but that didn't mean he wouldn't still try. Alfred was one of the most handsome being's that Francis has ever laid eyes on. It was still hard to believe Alfred's come from such a humble beginning—twas no wonder his beauty hadn't been found beforehand.

"What the husband doesn't know won't harm him," Francis again pressed, just teasingly suggestive with a waggle of his brows.

Alfred rolled his eyes with a sigh. He didn't move and Francis understood his defiant stance with a nod.

"Oui, oui, eyes everywhere," Francis acknowledged, but still lead Alfred to his table. The hand near the small of Alfred's back made his bodyguards press closer, but with one wave of the American's hand the men exited the close area and made an outer perimeter away from their boss.

Marriage definitely gained Alfred much more power status than previously as just a simple lover. While he had no doubt Ivan wouldn't have minded him telling his men what to do, now, the authority was undoubtedly his and Alfred's used it on multiple occasions, especially when he's fed up and wanting his privacy—whether that be from acquaintances or his own men.

"So, why is it that you have graced this event with your presence, Mr. Braginsky?" Francis inquired, gaining the rest of the guests' attention toward the blond as well. "I heard your husband is away. You usually isolate yourself until he returns."

Alfred really never would get used to being called by that.

"I want to learn more about charities," Alfred informed.

Francis' brows rose. "Oh, why is that?"

Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "Always wanted to give," Alfred informed.

"Does Ivan know about this?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, but I have enough money myself to start up an organization. Just . . . don't know where to start. It's why I came here." He looked toward the Frenchman firstly, the others at the table weren't as acquainted with Alfred F. Braginsky like Francis Bonnefoy was.

Francis grinned before slinging an arm around Alfred's neck. "Oh, you adorable little thing. You're not only attractive but have a heart of pure gold." Alfred groaned and pulled the Frenchman off of him. He didn't want to give his men any tale to tell Ivan when he returned, ugh, the headache in trying to explain Francis' mannerisms. Francis later sighed and said, "But I am quite curious on the sudden change. Tell me, what was it? Did you see those poor little bebe's starving in Africa, or is it something else? Perhaps you are wanting to please the populace like everyone else here before getting into politics." Francis winked at the thought but Alfred blew the idea out of his mind with a roll of his eyes. Like hell he'd get into politics like these leeches.

Francis was a French politician who owned some things in the U.S. and Canada, opting to visit both countries yearly and mingle with parliament and congress. He was a very wealthy man and pleased the crowds by numerous high risen donations from charities under his name. The only dirt on him really was his knowledge of the crime syndicate. He knew names and locations, was smarter than anyone really took him for, but he was safe and so detectives and police found it hard to not go against the law and take him into custody if only for the information stored in his head.

Francis Bonnefoy was a crafty man, but made sure to wash his hands and stay out of things that would dirty his silk shirts and Forzieri shoes. That was fine by Alfred, it's not like he was asking him to kill someone—no, that was Ivan's job.

"Been to my home town a little while ago," Alfred admitted. "Saw a few things that needed fixed up, but they won't take my money, so, I thought that if it was given by a generous charity organization then they wouldn't feel like they were using me."

"Ah, I see." Francis nodded. "You are a good boy, Alfred. You always stay like that."

In the next few weeks Alfred visited Francis quite a bit. The older man helped him set up everything needed and all Alfred had to do was offer his name and funds. With a sign here and there the organization was created. Francis helped with hiring trusted managers and accountants. In no time, Alfred had an organization to call his own and lead.

While Alfred just wanted to be in the background handing out the funds to work the organization effectively, Francis slipped just enough power to make sure Alfred had no other choice but to poke his nose into the proceeds of his employees as well as volunteers. "The company doesn't run as efficiently without the people indebted to it knowing the face of the creator," Francis had told Alfred and so now there he was, elbow deep in work around the time his husband returned home.

Alfred had papers scattered everywhere on his desk—had to buy himself one and set up an office for himself after he worried in cluttering Ivan's office like the Russian liked to keep organized. His hair was a mess from scratching his scalp so often. He was barefoot, dressed in sweatpants and a fitting sleeveless shirt.

The hour was late and he still had things to do before morning came. He was planning on meeting with a sister organization that did similar work in the city chosen to hand out charitable funds for the current week. Francis said it was best to start with the cities first so that when funds were given to smaller towns they wouldn't think it to be a scam or anything. Publicity first and giving secondly.

When the bedroom door opened with a soft click Alfred rose his head at the sight of his weary-faced husband. Ivan let out a sigh and habitually walked over to the side of the room where his office was set up to place his briefcase on his desk. Alfred even wondered if he had seen him when he walked through the door. Apparently he hadn't.

Ivan stilled for a moment before turning and giving Alfred a curious look. His eyes scanned the side office the boy had created before coming closer.

"When did you do this?" Ivan questioned, coming close to the desk and looking down at the cluttered top. When he made to take up a piece of paper Alfred snatched the parchment away, scooting them into his arms before trying to straighten them all out.

"A little while ago," Alfred answered him, quickly shoving the situated papers into one of the drawers. He didn't need to look at Ivan to see his frown from the action. "How'd everything go on your end?"

"Longer than I wanted," Ivan answered, his gaze still on everything Alfred had done, more importantly on the papers he had just hidden. "What are you hiding from me?" There was supposed to be no secrets kept in a marriage—Ivan believed in this—and yet he had yet to tell Alfred of what he did or how many people he's killed.

Alfred offered Ivan a pleasant smile. Sure, the organization was in the American's name, but if Ivan so decided he didn't like the charity program then he could cut Alfred's funds—which he had stated previously were for pleasure spending. Alfred never spent the money Ivan gave him and so he decided to put the cash to better use. He just was hoping Ivan approved.

Standing up, Alfred maneuvered around his desk and took Ivan's searching hands into his own. Some sweet talk and kisses would definitely settle the man down. Alfred leaned forward and gave Ivan one such kiss. The lack of response concerned the American, but when large arms wrapped around him and lips pressed back a little harder Alfred understood that it was just a delay of reaction—Ivan was simply jetlagged.

When Ivan pulled away from Alfred he continued holding him in his strong embrace, one hand rubbing his back while his other reached between them to take up Alfred's left hand and rub the wedding band that reassured Ivan every day that Alfred was his for life. Alfred did swallow some worry when Ivan's soft pleased smile turned into that playful danger.

"Now, what are you hiding from me, podsolnechnik?" The Russian simply wouldn't let it go.

Alfred knew he'd eventually have to tell him. Time for some sweet talk.

Alfred leaned forward again and kissed those lips. He smiled up at Ivan when he pulled back. "You were gone for a long time," Alfred began, keeping Ivan's gaze. It was easier now that he's lived with him for so long, but if there was the slightest disapproval in those amethyst eyes then Alfred wouldn't be able to stand looking at him. "I was here all by myself."

"The men told me you went on a lot of joyrides," Ivan informed, letting his husband know that he knew just what he'd been up to in the month that he'd been away. "They also said you were with Francis Bonnefoy a large amount of time."

Alfred chuckled. He smirked. "Do you think I'd cheat on you with that man?"

"I never accused you of that," Ivan said with a chuckle of his own. "He's just . . . very French. I would like to know why you were with him."

"Advice," Alfred said. He subtly led Ivan back to their bed where he sat the both of them down on the edge. He could see Ivan was tired, but now was a perfect time to talk about his latest endeavors. There was a short silence before Alfred said, "I started up a charity organization."

Ivan didn't say anything.

"And I used the funds of mine," Alfred also informed. This time he watched Ivan sigh and roll his head. The frown meant he wasn't too pleased—with which issue Alfred was unsure.

"That is for you to buy the things you want should you see something that I don't catch," Ivan reminded. "I was told you had started a business—charity is far from it."

"It's about the same," Alfred offered with a shrug. "I want to give, Ivan. I hardly even touch those funds and you know it."

"Why?" Ivan questioned the motive behind Alfred's starting a charity.

Alfred shrugged again. "Always did when I was little—whether it was offering my services for free or just helping an elderly lady cross the street. It's me." And it was, but a majority of this organization creation was to help his hometown—to help the programs helping others—to help Lien.

Ivan sighed though his nostrils. "You're happy with doing this?"

"Immensely," Alfred assured.

"Is it under your name?" Ivan questioned once more.

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, well, I signed all the papers, but . . . it's really under the Braginsky name. Hope you don't mind. I thought of you in its creation. Wanted you to have a spot there too if you found yourself to like something like this."

The sweet talk was working.

A smile etched its way onto Ivan's lips after a minute or two. His stare softened and when his fingers rose Alfred's chin to look up at him better he nodded. "If you're certain this makes you happy . . . then I will stand beside you in this."

Alfred smiled bigger than he probably ever had in front of Ivan. He threw his arms around the man's scarfed neck and squeezed tightly until his weight pressed forward and Ivan was falling backwards onto the bed.

"Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you, Ivan! This means so much to me!" Alfred leaned up and gave his husband a big thankful smooch.

The kiss opened mouths and encouraged tongues to dance together. Alfred let a moan slip into Ivan's mouth before pulling back, rolling his hips into Ivan's pelvis. The Russian let out a weary groan, but Alfred decided to keep going. He knew Ivan was tired, ready to fall asleep any moment but he wanted to give him a welcome-home gift for being so understanding of his investments.

Gripping the ends of his shirt, Alfred pulled the black fabric over his head and tossed it to the side. He was slightly surprised his husband didn't have his hands all over his torso. The gym in their home kept him in fit shape, especially for his loving husband to worship on nights like these.

He could see it, Alfred could see the way Ivan's exhausted eyes darkened. His lips parted, already Ivan was feeling less cool. Alfred simply smiled, taking up his husband's gloved hands, pulling each glove off before guiding his hands toward his sides, pulling on his arms to feel the new developed muscle he'd gained since Ivan had last seen him bare.

The encouraging motions soon had Ivan moving his hands on his own. Reaching up Ivan rubbed under the dip of Alfred's pectoral muscles, his thumbs sliding up to graze over perky nipples. Alfred let out a sigh, closing his eyes at the sensation of touch. This was for Ivan's pleasure as a sort of reward for agreeing with his recent interests, but that didn't mean Alfred couldn't enjoy this act as well.

Ivan made the decision to use more of his depleting energy to lean up and possibly suckle one of Alfred's awaiting nipples, and God, did Alfred want him to, but he pushed Ivan flat on his back, leaning over him and rubbing his chest against his suit. Alfred's perfected the art of the bedroom look, in his eyes as well as the way he smirked down at his husband. Patting Ivan's lips with his finger, Alfred signaled for him to stay back, relax, and let him do all the work.

Leaning back up, Alfred took Ivan's hands in his and pulled them to his mouth to kiss. He rubbed the ring finger on Ivan's left hand. It was barren of any wedding band like the one secured on Alfred's finger. Ivan explained that it was for his own protection that none knew the Russian was espoused while he dealt business. Instead there was shaped a new tattoo, Alfred's full wedded name wrapped around it like a band.

Alfred really didn't think too much on Ivan not wearing the ring given to both of them on their wedding day. Could honestly care less if Ivan had a whore he fucked in each city he traveled to. But even still, deep down in the unacknowledged part inside him, Alfred felt this to not be true, and that Ivan was as faithful as he promised he'd be in their wedding vows.

Alfred laid the large hands on his hips jutting out of his sweatpants and leaned forward. He rubbed their crotches together, earning another weary groan from his husband, before kissing Ivan. It was one simple kiss before he trailed his lips down Ivan's jaw, sucking, running his teeth along the bone before going below. Alfred's hands had untucked and unwrapped Ivan's precious scarf and attached himself to the Russian's marred neck.

Ivan became more responsive after that. His arms rose up Alfred's back, wrapping more securely to keep Alfred lain over him while his neck leaned up, allowing his face to come closer and lips to suck on the American's earlobes while his teeth nipped. Alfred gasped when Ivan bucked into him. He immediately felt just how hard he was. It never took long for Ivan to become erect—never long at all for Alfred.

Alfred scooted himself down much to Ivan's annoyance as his husband slipped out of his embrace. Ivan moved his arms back to his side, looking down while the American worked on his pants. He took out the belt completely after it was loosened, and the pants tugged down slightly when the zipper flew down.

Ivan's eyes rolled when Alfred reached inside his boxers and gasped him. He hummed his approval deep in his throat. When he opened his eyes again he was met by piercing blue eyes and a smiling face. Alfred held Ivan's manhood in his hands tauntingly.

"You missed me that much, huh?" Alfred poked his tongue out and licked the side of the cockhead for added effected. He felt the pulsing organ twitch in his grip, it even swelled slightly, forcing Alfred to loosen his grip ever so slightly.

"Mmmm, you have no idea." Ivan laid his head back onto the pillows and sighed in pleasure.

Alfred rolled his shoulders. His eyes focused on the leaking dick. When his thumb reached up and rubbed the slit he could feel how Ivan's legs twitched underneath him as he laid on them to keep the older still.

Alfred took in half of it the first time he bobbed his head. He made Ivan wait three more bobs before he had his nose shoved into the silk fabric of Ivan's dark boxers. Hands flew into his hair and Ivan attempted to buck. Alfred, however, pressed his weight on his legs and held Ivan's hips firmly against the mattress while he rose his head and then fell on the phallus, letting the cockhead hit the back of his throat with each descent.

Even while he sucked, Alfred made to rid Ivan of his pants. He knew he'd be upset if he got so much as one drop of cum on them. Not like he couldn't afford more clothes . . .

Alfred rubbed bare thighs in the same time as he quickened his pace, hallowing his cheeks to suck as hard as he wanted. Eyes flickering up, Alfred's gaze met Ivan's watching one. Those amethysts were dark, watching Alfred's every move. Alfred allowed them to behold his usual topaz like eyes transform into darker sapphires while he moaned around Ivan.

The Russian's eyelids fluttered. His head falling back onto the pillows underneath. Alfred mentally chuckled and shamefully patted himself on the back for getting so good at sucking cock—at sucking Ivan's cock.

One of Alfred's hands fondled Ivan's balls, squeezing just as he felt them tighten. Ivan was _very_ close.

Alfred had guessed right. His eyes widened at the feel of the cock erupt inside his mouth. Quickly, he deep-throated the rod to swallow what he could. Ah, not so much as a drop escaped.

Relaxing his throat Alfred pulled away. He looked at the cock, amazed it was still standing so fully erect. When his eyes turned back upward toward Ivan he noticed him looking at him again. He was wanting more.

Alfred chuckled, scooting back up Ivan's body to plant a salty kiss on his lips. A shiver shook his body when he watched the Russian lick his lips at the taste of himself on Alfred's lips. When Alfred leaned down for another kiss this time Ivan took control. He pressed closer, shoving his tongue into his mouth and guiding the pace.

They both rubbed their groins together, moaning in the other's mouth. Alfred broke connection, his head flinching back and mouth open to let out a squeaking moan when he felt Ivan's strong hands grip his ass—quite hard.

"I know." Alfred leaned down and kissed Ivan's lips. "I know," he said once more and kissed the man one last time before pulling back and pulling Ivan's hands off of his behind. "We'll get there, just let me lead."

Alfred leaned up on his knees on either side of Ivan's hips. Wiggling his hips for a show enticed a twitch from Ivan's groin. Alfred smirked at it, keeping eye contact with his husband—he knew Ivan enjoyed him looking at him in the bedroom.

Soon enough Alfred had kicked out of his sweats and boxers. When he settled back onto Ivan's hips the older's hands flew to his hips and his own dripping cock.

Alfred swatted Ivan's hand away from his dick. "Ah," the American said. "No work for you. I'll get off on my own. You, Mister, just lay back and enjoy the ride."

Alfred winked at his husband to ease that frown on the Russian's face. It worked. He could see a smile slowly appear while Ivan settled back into the sheets and mattress. But of course Alfred's words didn't stop Ivan's hands from rubbing his ass, giving the occasional squeeze that made Alfred's cock throb the way he liked it.

While Alfred sat on Ivan's pelvis, dealing with those hands molesting him, he worked on disrobing Ivan of the rest of his clothing. His jacket, his vest, ah, his holster and gun. Ivan always carried it with him—always.

Alfred took the gun out of the leather holster and cocked open the barrel to count the bullets. He heard Ivan sigh underneath him. When his eyes turned toward Ivan he caught the end tail of an eye roll.

"They're all accounted for," Ivan swore. Motioning for Alfred to put the gun aside. "There was no need to personally defend myself while I was away."

_"Personally defend himself."_ Alfred scoffed at the term. He knew Ivan was fully protected. He had a damn army of underlings, while being good at brute force and a revolver. Sometimes a bullet or two would be missing, and Alfred knew they were not fired out of self-defense. That was all bullshit.

Even so Alfred placed the gun aside on the lampstand next to the bed. While he was over there he dug into the drawer and grabbed the glass bottle of lubrication oil. He poured some on his hand, deliberately letting it slip between his fingers to drip onto Ivan's bare tattooed torso.

Alfred rubbed the oil over Ivan's chest and then up to his neck. He leaned down and kissed him again while he poured more oil on his hand, coating his fingers nicely.

"Mm!" Alfred tried to not make a sound when he penetrated himself, but it had been a while since he and Ivan had last had sex. He tightened up some. Also, he never fingered himself nor used useless dildos while Ivan was away—had an oddly strange hunch that Ivan wouldn't be too happy about anything other than his cock sliding into that American ass.

Ivan's hands on his ass cheeks somewhat helped. Their squeeze did distract him a little from the working digits inside his puckered hole. When Ivan pulled the globes apart it helped Alfred press in more fingers. But, damn, was it hard to concentrate on kissing Ivan's breath away while in the same time he was trying to work himself open.

Ivan seemed to take notice of this and so detached his lips from Alfred's and instead turned his head to suck his neck. The Russian could feel all of the trapped moans inside Alfred's throat vibrating inside. His teeth punctured skin almost as if trying to release them. He succeeded in releasing some.

"Okay," Alfred gasped out breathlessly when he finally pulled his fingers out of himself—he didn't finger often when engaged with Ivan in bed, most of the time it was for show and to get a rise out of his husband. "Okay," Alfred breathed out once more before pushing himself away from Ivan and then rubbing back onto the cock raised high, rubbing in-between his crack. Alfred and Ivan moaned at the feel of it rub against his stretched entrance, but when Alfred reached behind him and took hold of the organ Ivan held his breath.

Alfred's body definitely had time to tighten while Ivan was away. Ivan groaned when the American descended on him. He bucked, more of himself slipped inside quicker, but it was best he remain patient for the panting partner above him.

"Easy, easy," Alfred panted out, his eyes clenched shut and teeth bare. It was a wonder if Alfred was telling this to Ivan or himself.

When Alfred finally caught his breath he straightened his form and rolled his hips, experimentally squeezing the shaft inside him in time with the way it throbbed. Oh, that felt good.

"Mmmm, did you miss this, baby?" Alfred moaned, raising his arms to clasp behind his head to show his husband that he could control the connection by his mere hips that rolled and anal muscles clenched. He gave Ivan an earful of arousing words he knew he'd be pleased to hear, and pleased he was. The Russian shot out his hands, both gripped Alfred's hips tightly, trying to pull Alfred up if only to get him moving. The way Alfred ground his hips into his was killing him.

"Da, da," Ivan said breathlessly. Alfred could tell he wanted to lean up and kiss him, but he was battling with the thought of that or just making Alfred's hips rise by his gripping hands.

Alfred's come a long way since his and Ivan's first "date." It took a while to convince himself this, but after so long of seeing Ivan and then with the marriage Alfred decided to take more control in the bedroom. Ivan didn't protest to this whatsoever just as long as Alfred didn't try putting his cock inside the Russian.

Now after learned experience Alfred could make Ivan beg for him, turn him into putty in bed. It was some of the only control he could ever have, but Alfred took it. Controlling Ivan through sex wasn't so bad, Alfred always got what he wanted—just like now.

Alfred continued to grind, clenching his inward muscles to tease the throbbing swelling phallus inside him. He felt it twitch multiple times, he could even feel the cum leaking out of it, smearing against his inner walls. Alfred sighed, leaned his head back, and reached down to place his hands over Ivan's clenching hands at his hips.

The American planted his knees on either side of Ivan's hips and slowly rose. He clenched Ivan until he pulled all the way off, Ivan slipping completely out of him. Alfred's husband looked toward him with confusion, his gaze going down to his bobbing cock already such an angry red.

Ivan would have bucked. He would have demanded he enter his spouse again hadn't Alfred thought quicker. The American sat back down, loosening himself just in time to take the entire organ back inside of himself in one fluid motion. That seemed to make Ivan lose his breath. The Russian's lips parted, eyes wide as he struggled to simply breathe.

That move was a first for Alfred, and he was surprised he even managed to press back down on the penis without feeling around for it. That could have ended horribly un-arousing, but it worked in Alfred's favor. He smiled down at Ivan, his bangs sweeping gold across his gem-like eyes.

Ivan couldn't keep his eyes away from him. The Russian laid underneath Alfred, watching him ride him, watching how that tanned skin shadowed itself at angles from the lamplights, and how those fit muscles twitched from the way he rolled himself onto Ivan. Alfred's come a long way since Ivan had taken his virginity.

Alfred would please any bedmate right now, but his only partner would ever be Ivan. The Russian would see him with no one else. They could look, but they could not touch him. No, he was all his. All of him.

Ivan left one hand on Alfred's hip while the other rose and twisted a nipple. Alfred jumped, it felt pleasant on Ivan's cock, but even more so the reaction had Alfred wrapping one of his hands around Ivan's wrist. This meant Alfred couldn't balance himself with both his hands.

Ivan pushed forward, twisted them around. Alfred lost his glasses when his back hit the mattress. His mouth opened and out came those delicious moans Ivan hadn't heard in weeks.

It was easy to see Alfred hadn't expected Ivan to still have so much energy. It was true the Russian didn't have much left, but right now he felt it right to use to remainder to pound his husband into their bed. He's missed him.

"Ah, AH!" Alfred gasped, blinking away tears right after his glasses had flown off his face. With Ivan over him he was now leaning his weight into him, pressing so far inside him that . . . "OH!" Alfred's head landed back into the pillows underneath, his eyes rolling when Ivan's cock rubbed just the right way inside him.

Alfred really had been willing to do all the work, but if this is how Ivan wanted to spend himself, then he was free to do it. When the Russian lifted Alfred's left leg onto his shoulder Alfred gasped, sucking in a choking breath at feeling how _deep_ Ivan penetrated him. This was so much closer than before. So good . . . so . . .

"God!" Alfred's hands flew out to Ivan's rolling hips, pulling just as Ivan thrust back inside. He wanted him deeper, he wanted him thrusting harder.

After being absent of his husband for so long, Ivan was highly sexually frustrated. When he got like this he could well hurt Alfred, but right now the American was begging for it, was spreading his legs the best he could to accept his return.

Ivan wanted to kiss Alfred, but the sound of his screams aroused him more than the feel of his lips. Alfred was clenching him, begging him to rip into him as fast and as hard as he could. And Ivan did.

Now, the bed was sturdy in frame and foundation, but even now the sound of the headboard slamming against the wall resounded across the room—or perhaps that was Alfred slamming into the headboard.

"Oh! Ah, yes, yes, like that!" Alfred cried out. His hands slid up and tangled into Ivan's hair. The Russian turned his head to offer one of the wrists a kiss before grinning down at Alfred devilishly, ramming into him as hard as he could since given permission. "Open me up!" Alfred cried out, tickling Ivan's hears. He could feel the way Ivan's cock inside him swelled and grew hotter the more he shouted out such provocative phrases. "Make me remember you, oh!"

Ivan dipped his shoulder to let Alfred's leg drop. He pressed closer now. Gripping Alfred by the jaw and pulling him to meet his lips. Teeth pulled at skin and tongue alike when Ivan bent Alfred in half and thrust downward to Alfred's upward angled hips.

Alfred cried out in Ivan's mouth, choking for air. But Ivan did not let go of his mouth. Instead one of his hands let go of Alfred's hip and slid in-between their grinding forms. There he gripped Alfred's dick tightly, making the American scream.

Alfred pulled his head away and turned to the side to scream. His face was nearly blue by how long Ivan held him. He took in one gulp of air to fill his lungs before Ivan turned his face back to him and attacked his mouth once more.

Alfred came violently. He felt his orgasm numb his body for a couple moments longer before the weighing harsh thrusts from his husband pulled him back into reality. Alfred choked again at the feel of how deep Ivan was inside him and gasped for more breath when he became hard again.

Alfred could feel his hard dick bobbing against his abdominal muscles as well twitching upward to rub against Ivan's own taut stomach. It was hard to continually clench his anal muscles and so Alfred had given up trying to get Ivan to come. He hadn't known he had this much stamina in him.

The passion was overwhelming.

Alfred could tell when Ivan was close. First of all the cock inside him would swell and stretch him so much that it almost became difficult to move. Secondly, the thrusts would get heavier, and they were right now. The timing between each one grew longer and longer, and the thrusts themselves harder and deeper.

When Ivan came Alfred watched his face. Ivan would turn his head just slightly, close his eyes tightly and part his lips to moan out silently. The Russian was certainly holding everything inside, the cum was stretching Alfred and with his hips angled upward he moaned at the feel of it swell his intestines.

Ivan would usually pump out his orgasm, this time he stilled himself after the second thrust. Then . . . he collapsed. The breath left Alfred when Ivan's weary form toppled over onto him. He didn't say anything to it because he was strong enough now to push him off of him, roll him onto his side.

God, Alfred wished Ivan could rise one more time—he still had a current problem. Alfred moaned out a whine, propping himself up to look at his aching dick. He needed release, and the softening cock inside him wasn't going to do the job.

Alfred bit his lip and wrapped his hand around his penis. He rubbed furiously before the pleasant feel of being so deliciously pounded into dulled into a throbbing ache. Alfred bucked into his hand three times before one of Ivan's hand slapped against his thigh and pushed him back.

Alfred landed against the mattress again, surprised to see Ivan lean over him. When Ivan's other hand wrapped around Alfred's weeping cock small little pleads left Alfred's lips as his eyes glazed over with tears of need. Ivan gave him what he wanted. At the very last moment before cumming, Alfred's jaw loosened at the feel of his husband thrust one last time into him before his embedded cock softened completely. That did the trick and Alfred came, oozing all down Ivan's hand.

Ivan smiled in relief before weariness took hold of him and he fell again, laying himself beside Alfred, even keeping himself inside the American while he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. It was good to be home again.

While Ivan caught his breath he also constricted his arms around his husband who continually tried to slip out of the embrace—no doubt head to the shower. Ivan squeezed particularly harder and groaned with protest.

"When I am rested, we will continue this," Ivan informed, opening one heavy eyelid to peer at his young husband cradled in his arms.

Alfred whined. "But I was supposed to have a meeting tomorrow with the a considering partner charity," Alfred brought up.

Ivan squeezed again, turning and practically pulling Alfred under him. "Nyet, you will have meeting some other time."

Alfred huffed out a sigh but did no more. He had hoped Ivan would be so tired he'd zonk out on the bed for the remainder of the night. He was sleeping now, Alfred could hear the light breathing from him, but he knew better. If he so much as tried to move it would wake the Russian, so he remained still and obedient.

Alfred didn't know why he neglected to remember how much Ivan enjoyed "bonding" after time spent apart from business ventures. Cock in ass would be how it was for the next day more than likely. Alfred sighed, mentally wishing Ivan would get himself a mistress of some sort while he was away so he wouldn't feel the need to take all his sexual tension out on him.

A smile slowly crept its way to Alfred's lips unbeknownst to him. Even when he kept telling himself he didn't want to and that he was uncomfortable he pressed closer to Ivan, enjoying their shared heat. Even though occasions like this where Ivan would wear Alfred out proved annoying to the younger who would later find himself paralyzed for a good few days, it let Alfred know he was Ivan's only.

Alfred would definitely say it was the marriage that helped him grow a little bolder around Ivan. Closer in a way as well. At first it was little things he found himself saying, "no," to, like what he wanted to eat or what color he wanted to wear. Later, after realizing Ivan had so meant to keep his promise that Alfred would stand at his side as his partner and husband—and not put a bullet in his head when things didn't go Ivan's way all the time—Alfred had become what he was today; declining offers to journey with Ivan during business trips, bribing Ivan's hand with sex when he really wanted something—like approval for newly created businesses, and seeing people without telling Ivan about it. Alfred knew the man probably knew, what with his goons everywhere, but his care had dissipated.

So, even though Ivan didn't want to, Alfred somehow managed to drag the Russian with him when the press called for the faces of the Braginsky charity foundation. Of course the first showing just so happened to be when Alfred finally got the chance to give back to his hometown and bless every nonprofit business and program within.

With the children bustling around and the numerous flashes of the cameras all angled in on them, Alfred could tell his husband wasn't enjoying this line of work one bit. Alfred didn't care if the two of them looked like night and day. His bright smile attracted the cameras and his arms the children. He was holding two on his hip—Ivan had held a child for pictures but after the photographers finished he handed the little girl over to Alfred who happily held her in his arms.

With the public and news covering everything the programs had no choice but to take the donations—including Lien. In fact, they were at her building first. Most of her regular kids were there, all running around their caretakers' legs. She smiled nice for the cameras but after that she sat near the back watching everything . . . watching Alfred.

When the buzz began to fade Lien decided to approach Alfred, especially when some of the children sat him down to paint a few pots thusly ensuring that his Russian husband would distance himself from the youthful playtime.

"So, you came back," Lien began. She held out a cleaning rag for Alfred who was trying to clean up for the children and wash all of their brushes.

Alfred looked back at her and then smiled, thanking her for the rag. "Of course. You know me, if I see something—or someone—in need then I have to help."

"You didn't have to," Lien persisted, bringing out a cleaning rag herself and kneeling down to wash the children's colored fingers.

"But I wanted to," Alfred said in final. Looking at the Vietnamese he made sure she could tell he was serious. "I don't need a, 'thank-you,' or anything. I just want your program to continue to run, as well as the other programs in town." Alfred stood and picked up the tray of paint and brushes, meaning to return the items to the back. "I understand if you're upset with me for being so pushy. I won't butt into your life again after this. Just a favor from a friend, Lien."

Alfred went to turn but the weight of something wrapped around his leg stopped him. He looked down and noticed that same little redheaded freckle-faced toothless girl. She was looking up at him with wide sad blue eyes and pouting lips.

"You aren't going to go away forever and ever, are you, Mr. Alfred?" she asked. Soon, another weight latched itself onto Alfred's pant leg, this one of a little boy who mirrored the girl's face.

"Pweeeaaase, Mr. Alfwed. You are fun. You are nice," the little guy spoke up, rubbing his paint-smeared face into his leg.

Lien looked shocked by the children's reaction. Normally it took them all a long time to grow attached to anyone. They've only been around Alfred twice and now they were clinging to him . . . but then again, Alfred's personality always attracted the lonely, lost, and outcasts. The sunshine in his smiles was always a beacon to those wanting to see the light.

Alfred glanced toward Lien who looked taken aback by the children's reactions. When he looked at him she sighed. A light smile on her lips.

"I suppose he could stay around if he can find the time," she said softly.

Placing the tray down on another table Alfred pressed the children off of his legs so that he could crouch down to their eyelevel. They all came close to him then.

"If you guys want me around, then I guess I can stay," Alfred promised. The children cheered and the little redhead even gave Alfred a sweet peck on the cheek. Alfred felt his heart could burst. Kids were the best. Ever since he was little he had always wanted children. His first number of set children was thirteen, but then he got a little more audacious and settled for fifty—perhaps that was why no one wanted to date him back in high school.

"Oh," Lien was sure she wasn't the only one who noticed the way Alfred's husband stood near the door. He was waiting for him. "Alfred, I think your husband is wanting you to go to him."

Alfred turned his head and noticed Ivan. He nodded before standing up straight. "Thanks," he offered to Lien before leaving her. "Hope you don't mind me being a regular in the future."

Lien offered Alfred a smile of her own. "Not at all," she admitted.

Alfred gave her that million-dollar-smile that she had once fallen in love with and left. Lien observed how Alfred interacted with his husband. This was her first time even seeing him, and the sudden donation from their charity organization was so quick that Lien hadn't the time to contact Alfred's parents. No, in fact they'd be gone before the boy's parents ever knew he was in town.

Lien really didn't know what to think about Mr. Ivan. She could definitely tell he was far older than she and Alfred. She hadn't thought that her ex would go for marrying someone so much older than himself. That, besides his sudden switch in sexual orientation, surprised her.

Perhaps if she had actually had a chance to speak with Mr. Braginsky then she wouldn't feel so unnerved about him. But the way he distanced himself, and the way he motioned for Alfred to come—to obey him—why Lien might think differently of him. So far, she was growing concerned with who Alfred had wedded himself to.

When Alfred stumbled out past the children and finally came before his husband Lien watched closely. She saw the way Mr. Ivan's eyes looked on the paint splatters on Alfred's clothing with annoyance.

"I hope that will come off," she heard the Russian say just as he turned, his body motion commanding Alfred to follow him. "The Mayor has invited us to dinner and I would like you to look presentable."

"I'll change before we go," was the last thing Lien heard from Alfred as the two upper-class human beings exited her studio.

And just like how they came in with a whirl of surprise and air, they were gone. Lien wondered if she'd really ever see Alfred again. Her concern laid with his present husband and seemingly controlling demands he calls for.

But, she did, she did see Alfred again.

It had been a month later. Alfred had showed up one evening expecting to find the kids painting away, instead he found Lien fixing up a few broken items by herself. She had taken a week off from the program to finally look into the repairs herself and fix a few things the technicians and mechanics had missed. Alfred did pout at the missed opportunity to paint but he did roll up his sleeves and help the woman. Afterwards the two shared a nice cup of hot tea each and lounged around on the floor, just speaking about what they both had been up to the past couple of years.

The next time Alfred showed up it was two weeks after and he had nailed the timing correctly this time. Lien enjoyed his presence in the studio. The sight of him crouched down next to the children really made Lien's heart flutter. She'd snuck many a picture of those moments and in each one Lien enjoyed the American's smile the most.

Lien had always loved his smiles the most. She remembered him winning "Most Smiley" in their senior yearbook. She was glad to see those again, Alfred was always most attractive with his bright smiles.

But even so, whenever Lien mentioned Alfred's brother, Matthew, was in town, or that his parents were eating at a nearby restaurant those smiles would vanish all too quickly and the most unattractive frowns would mar the American's features. He'd leave as well. And so Lien reluctantly accepted his unknown reasons for privacy.

She had always known Alfred to be a family man and for him to shun himself away from the ones she knew he loved was unsettling for her. But she would not pry into his private life. She couldn't hope to be that close to him to speak about those things like she had been before.

Lien sighed to herself after one evening when Alfred had helped her clean up and then taken up his car keys to leave with a polite, "goodbye, Lien." She missed the old days when she and Alfred were . . . No, it wasn't right for her to think these things. He was a married man . . .

But a very _unhappy_ married man; that much she could clearly see.

One evening he was particularly distressed. He was nice to the children, but his mood was obvious and so she took to cleaning everything up and placing all of the items back where they belonged. He had apologized for not helping out, excusing that his mind was elsewhere, but when he made to leave she offered him a reason to stay.

"You seem tired, Alfred. Would you . . . would you allow me to cook you dinner?" Lien didn't think she was that bad of a cook but she hoped she wouldn't turn the American off.

Alfred looked at her with surprise. His hand on the doorknob of the studio, his form frozen in spot.

"I don't mean to impose or anything," Lien spoke up. "If you have somewhere to be that's of importance then, please, by all means go. I was just offering you a chance to try my culinary skills. I learned a few things from my aunt, and, well, with only myself around I don't cook as often."

Then, Alfred smiled that smile Lien had fallen in love with. He agreed to stay.

Lien's apartment was above the studio. She felt embarrassed for not thinking to clean all of her clutter out of the way before inviting Alfred up. It really was a spur of the moment thing. Surprised even herself.

Lien made bún chả. She felt proud of herself for getting it ready within a decent amount of time. Even more so when Alfred gulfed down three platefuls.

"Man." Alfred let out a satisfied sigh just as he leaned back and rubbed his full belly. "Always knew you'd be an awesome cook. You'd make a good wife, Lien."

The girl blushed at the comment. "Does your husband cook?"

Alfred sighed again, this time it was of weariness. His gaze even darted off to the side, looking back toward the jumble of pots and pans Lien had stacked into the kitchen sink. "No, he just has his servants serve up our meals. Most dishes are what he prefers. I have to go out if I so much as want a burger, ya know."

"Oh, you don't share the same taste?" Lien questioned while she stood and took up the plates to toss in with the rest of cookware in the overburdened sink.

Alfred snickered. His eyes not focused on anything in particular except the thoughts inside his mind. "Hell no. He says American food is 'disgusting' and food fit for 'pigs'." There was a short concerning silence but all too soon Alfred looked at her and smiled. "But that's fine, Vietnamese food is even better. I really am grateful for the meal, Lien. Really filled me up."

This subject had been on Lien's heart for a long time and she wouldn't let the man change it on her. Slamming the dishes down on the counter she startled the American. He looked surprised at her reactions, mostly by how angry her eyes were when they looked into his.

"How could you marry someone like that, Alfred?" She needed to know. The Alfred she knew would never, NEVER, wed someone as controlling or selfish as Mr. Braginsky. Alfred deserved better!

"It's complicated, Lien, let's just not talk about it," Alfred said, turning his face away from her and crossing his fingers. She noticed how he hid his wedding ring with his other hand, and the way he glanced away—it was a gesture of shame. She just couldn't make sense of it all because the Alfred she knew would never be so . . . so . . . so defeated.

Lien sighed. She cared for Alfred. He had been a good friend of hers even before their relationship had been ruined by a failed courtship. She wanted to understand his problems, and, if possible, try to help fix them; make them right.

The raven-haired woman marched back toward Alfred and knelt before him, reaching out and placing a delicate hand on top of his. He started at her touch, looking at her warily. When his hands parted to cup his kneecaps she moved her fingers and traced the bumpy ridges of the American's diamond studded wedding band. It really was a beautiful piece of jewelry, but even so it meant nothing if the wearer cared nothing for it.

"There was a boy I knew in high school when I was just a simple transfer student. Everyone in town knew him. He was the nicest guy. He got good grades and the teachers adored him." Lien sighed, tearing her eyes away from the ring and then looking up at Alfred, her amber eyes meeting his light blue—such sad looking eyes. "Then he graduated and went off to college and was never heard from again."

"It happens more often than you think," Alfred mentioned.

"It shouldn't to you," Lien said, pulling her tracing fingers away and settling herself down at Alfred's feet, willing to listen, to try to be a friend who helped. "Was it for the money, Alfred? Is that why you married Mr. Braginsky?"

"God, no," Alfred quickly chortled. He shook his head. "I don't want a single penny from him."

"Then what?" Lien pressed again. "Why are you so afraid to tell the truth?"

"Because it's not important," Alfred replied. His tone was rising. Lien could tell by the way his chest heaved back and forth, his breath quickening.

"Then you're not important?"

"He doesn't give a damn about me!"

Lien had finally pushed him to say what she suspected had been eating away inside him all this time.

Alfred let out an angry huff. He still would not look at her. He simply shook his head and snarled. "All he cares about is me warming his bed. Doesn't give a damn if I wanted to actually earn my college degree myself. Doesn't give a damn if I actually wanted to enter the work field and climb the latter of success. Doesn't give a damn if I wanted to keep close to my friends and family. Doesn't give a damn that I don't want to be his fucking husband!"

Lien watched Alfred break down before her. He leaned forward, his elbows touching his knees while his head fell into his hands. She thought he might be crying, but she was uncertain.

"Then why . . . did you marry him?" Lien's voice was soft. Alfred didn't have to answer her anymore if he didn't want to. But she needed to know.

"Because I had no choice." And that was Alfred's statement for everything.

Lien pressed further no more. She understood perfectly what had happened to Alfred. She pitied him, she really did. Of all the people on the planet he had to be the one of the few—or perhaps majority—who was forced into a reluctant relationship.

No, no, Alfred deserved better.

But it really was hopeless, wasn't it? Lien could see it in Alfred's sad, sad baby blue eyes. Such a shame. She would have treated him so much better had she had the opportunity for a second chance with him.

She should have never let him go.

When Lien leaned up and kissed him she hadn't known what had come over her. Later she realized it was jealousy that slowly dissipated into pity. But the pity transformed into guilt when she felt Alfred press back into her, his hand—the one bearing his sacred wedding band—reached up and combed through her bangs before settling on the side of her face while he pressed in and return the kiss.

"Mm, no, Alfred. Your husband." Lien had to pull away. She looked away in the shame of herself. Even if Alfred was unhappy he was still lawfully wedded.

"Damn him." Lien turned back toward Alfred. She noticed his eyes a darker shade. His entire facial expressions were dark, such as she'd never seen on his bright face before. "Damn him to hell." Alfred reached out and cupped the Asian's face, making her look at him, keep his gaze. "I'm so unhappy with him, at the mansions, in his luxury cars, the four star restaurants . . . I can find no place for myself, to save my mind. But here, when I came home, I felt it. It was small, but then you . . . this place . . . Lien." Alfred held her tighter. "Let this be my peace. Help me."

The second kiss was initiated by Alfred and this time Lien did not resist. Somehow they had made it back to the her bedroom, Lien wouldn't be feeling her soft sheets underneath her back while Alfred sucked on her lips and pressed his tongue into her mouth. His hands rubbed and caressed all over her body before they slipped up under her shirt and one palm fondled a breast.

Lien moaned and arched into his touch. Oh, how she had missed this. Never once in the back of her mind did she fear Alfred could be killed for what he was doing by a jealous spouse. It was probably because she didn't quite know how dangerous Ivan Braginsky was, but Alfred did and he was throwing away all care of getting a bullet in the skull just for this night.

Perhaps Lien would have felt some sort of a guilt inside her over the fact that Alfred, who was loving her that night, was a married man. Perhaps she would have hadn't for the known fact that Alfred was simply trapped in a relationship he didn't want to be in. Instead, she focused on the feel of him above her, touching her, caressing her, grinding into her. No, he wanted her and she could feel it.

It felt nice to press against him again. With her shirt gone from her the skin not concealed by her bra could feel his radiant warmth even through his clothing. She hummed out a moan, her fingers tracing down Alfred's arms at the irritating feel of his jacket sleeves. Alfred caught on quick to her annoyance and kissed her close, simultaneously pulling his jacket off of his shoulders and leaving the nice coat to slip off the side of the bed.

Lien's thin fingers began unbuttoning the rest of Alfred's dress shirt after he had unclasped the first upper ones. He seemed to want to hold her more, to cup her face and kiss her deeply. He was an amazing kisser. Even the memory of the awkward virgins that they used to be so long ago wasn't enough to turn Lien away from the passion Alfred was showing her right then.

The Vietnamese could feel the coolness of the metal band on Alfred's finger as his palm rubbed up her slender back, but she ignored the object that emitted the feeling and instead focused on the feel of Alfred's skin touching hers, and the way his fingers unclasped her bra and pulled it away. She didn't hide herself. Even though it had been years and the end of their relationship had been disastrous she still stretched out her arms and bore her nakedness before him.

Alfred moved the bra away, it slipping off the side of the bed as well. His blue eyes took in Lien's naked torso and the want in them aroused the woman. For so long she had thought he had forgotten her, that he'd moved on, found someone else, and could never want her again. The look in his eyes when those blue gems flicked up to gaze into her own told her how wrong she was.

"Alfred." The sigh that left Lien's throat sounded a lot like the American's name and in so it enticed him to lean closer again, attaching his mouth to her thin neck and suckling on the skin. Lien's eyes fluttered closed and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She had missed him so much.

The hands kneading her breasts eventually moved, back to her back, fingers tracing down her spine until the tips touched the fabric of her white pants. Over the hem they traced before moving around and touching the button and zipper of the crotch. Alfred was looking at her again, probably to silently ask for permission that he didn't need.

Lien smiled up at him and nodded, giving the American the go-ahead to open her pants. While he did so she had finished to task in sliding down that shirt from his shoulders. Now Alfred had borne his bare chest to her.

She could not help herself the more of him that was shown. Lien leaned up and attached her mouth to Alfred's broad shoulder, sighing at the feel of taut muscle moving against her lips. Alfred had always had the nicest body, back in high school it was the perfect shape of an athlete, now, with the maturity of adulthood, the muscles had grown and shaped his torso to be oh so more enticing.

Lien's hands rubbed up over bumpy abdominal muscles and then over the curve of large pectorals. Her nails scraped over pert nipples before traveling up and rubbing up the American's collarbone and cupping his neck. She looked up at him and he her. She leaned up, pressing Alfred down a little herself, and kissed him.

Their mouths opened and tongues met. He tasted different than she had remembered, but the arousal in the kiss urged Lien to moan, to suck on his tongue inside her mouth and for her own muscle to push into his. Alfred had bit down lightly on her tongue and held it inside her mouth teasingly while he leaned down and rubbed his chest against hers—the way their breasts rubbed turned them both into moaning messes.

At the feel of her pants slipping off her small hips Lien felt it only proper that Alfred's sate of undress matched her own. Her hands now worked on unbuckling his belt and prying open his pants. She gasped when those hips ground against her, the feel of how hard Alfred was nearly overwhelmed Lien in that moment.

She hadn't made love to Alfred in so long that the unease of nervousness rose up. Her hands trembled when they pressed against his shoulder blades. The way he ground against her, and the feel of his need for her made her groan. Alfred was rubbing her now, his hand rubbed between her legs until she became moist in her panties.

The discomfort from the undergarment was evident in her frown. She didn't have to say anything to the American though. One look and Alfred hooked his thumbs in the fabric, slipping the light covering down her thighs before it too was discarded off to the side of the bed.

Lien shuddered out a breath at the feel of the cool air around them touching her bared body. She flushed at the powerful emotions in that stare from the American's glowing blue eyes. She watched him closely, she watched him reach out, his hand slowly returning to her chest, pressing against her sternum, remaining to feel the beating of her heart. Then it slipped down, rubbing down between her breasts toward her flat stomach before traveling further.

Alfred rubbed her again, and when she moaned she watched his eyes flutter and jaw loosen. The way his facial features shifted to such desire moistened the woman more so than any fingers or rubbing palm.

"O-Oh!" Lien gasped, tossing her head to the side when Alfred dipped his fingers between her legs again. The feel of his skin was softer than she had remembered. Before, Alfred's fingers had been rough, calloused from gripping baseball bats and throwing footballs. Now, his skin might be softer than her own, and she moaned at the feel.

Two of his fingers rubbed at her clitoris in a circular motion before pinching the bud and pulling on it. Her hips bucked into his hand, her eyes held by his through this. She was mesmerized by those sapphires, just like she always had been.

When Alfred pressed against her harder he leaned down and kissed her lips gently. He kissed her once more before kissing down her chin, stopping a little to suckle her jaw before descending more. He kissed her neck and then her collarbone. When he began to suckle the Asian's breasts the woman ground against him, trying to press those rubbing fingers further down toward a place that needed to be undoubtedly filled by the American.

Her high-pitched moans filled the rooms. Her panting breath seemed ragged as well when cooling sweat slicked her body. She spread her legs for Alfred, wanting him to see her, to know that she needed him so very now.

Her fingers laced into his soft scented hair while he pulled his head back slightly, bringing the nipple in his mouth with him to suckle. She wasn't the largest breasted woman on the planet, and Lien often felt lacking compared to most women, but Alfred seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her womanly assets in abundance. He had always made her feel perfect under his kisses and touches.

She hadn't even noticed Alfred had been subtly pushing down his pants and undergarments while in this state of the process. It wasn't until she felt the smooth texture of his cock that she opened her eyes to look down at him. He was now as bare as her.

Lien opened her mouth to moan at the sight of the man. Alfred had just let go of her nipple, it now graciously coated with his saliva. He was looking at her through his glasses that gave him clear vision. Beautiful eyes attached to an even more beautiful body.

Lien remembered back in high school how Alfred felt so normal, so "average" compared to the other boys. In reality he couldn't see he was the best looking in school. She knew all of the girls wanted him and so when he asked her out that one day after homeroom she had felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Even still, no matter how many times she told the American how handsome he was he continued to brush it off as sweet talk from his girlfriend.

No, truly Alfred was the most attractive being on the planet.

Lien reached out, her fingers tracing the frames of his glasses. Alfred closed his eyes at the feel. He looked reluctant to part with the spectacles. Lien could tell this when he caught her fingers that tried to pry them away from his gorgeous face.

Alfred moved Lien's hands away and instead took off his glasses gently, folded them and turned to place them down gently on the lampstand next to the bed. Lien understood how his sight varied without the help from his glasses, but in that moment she couldn't tell Alfred was near blind without them.

She leaned up and kissed him, urging him to lay himself over her again. She moaned at the feel of him above her, between her legs. When he ground his hips into hers he removed his rubbing hand only to let Lien feel the old feel of his dick against her womanhood.

Lien moaned. Alfred had grown. The feel of the unbearably hard organ rubbing against her lips and entrance aroused carnal lust inside the Vietnamese. The moisture dripping out of her vagina slicked the cock up to rub against her more smoothly. She could feel the way she pulsed and inwardly clenched. Her body wanted Alfred's manhood inside her now, and the throbbing need inside her turned her into a panting mess.

Once more Alfred leaned down to suck against Lien's neck. He rubbed her breasts in time with his thrusts against her, working her body up until she tingled with pleasure. She couldn't remember him being this good in bed when they were younger. She wondered if he had other girlfriends because certainly he couldn't have learned all of this from his male spouse.

Lien whined when Alfred pulled away from her, but the feel of his lip descending down her frame erased all worry of his departure. His kisses were just as warm as the heat emitting from his body. Even after his mouth left a spot Lien could still feel the warmth he had given her a moment ago.

"Alfred, oh!" Lien gasped, her hands flying into golden locks the moment Alfred darted his tongue out to slip between her thick under lips. The moment she felt the muscle flick against her clitoris she lost it. A loud moaning cry of pleasure left her mouth and a hand left Alfred's hair just to cover such embarrassing sounds.

Tears pricked her eyes at the feel of Alfred sink his teeth lightly onto her sensitive bud and pull it into his mouth, suckling it like he had with her nipples. Her thighs trembled with pleasure and the heat pooling in her heightened.

"Yes, Alfred, oh!" Lien tossed her head to the side, her hand having given up trying to conceal her cries of ecstasy and instead pulled up at her bangs, pushing them out of her face damp with sweat. "Alfred, Alfred, Alfred!" She could never grow tired of crying out his name. Her hand still tangled into his hair pulled and pushed, and Alfred followed her lead. She moaned in sadness when he let go of her clitoris, but bucked her hips when Alfred slipped his tongue into her tight passage. Another shrill cry passed out of her throat, and it wasn't long before she was rolling her hips into him.

Both hands now pressed at Alfred's head, pushing him closer, trying to get his tongue deeper into her. Lien's eyes shut tight. She could feel her muscles clamp down onto the American's tongue, trying to keep it there, trying to take pleasure from its slick texture.

The sounds they made in that quiet room was almost as arousing as the touches. Lien could hear her shameless wanton moans, but she shivered at the sounds of Alfred sucking against her, slurping up her juices that amplified and doused out of her quicker. She moaned when Alfred pulled back. He rubbed her thighs when he looked up at her, both of their eyes darkening at the sight of the other.

Lien didn't care for the moisture dripping down Alfred's chin. She pulled him back to her and shoved her tongue inside his mouth. She drove past the taste of herself and instead inhaled the feel of Alfred's passion.

When Alfred's hands gently pressed against Lien's thighs the warmth of his hands enticed Lien to spread them. Eagerly she awaited Alfred. Watching him shift properly between her legs made her shiver, especially when she caught sight of his manhood. He was large and bobbing against fine muscle. The head was red and dripping with fluids of its own.

Lien shivered at knowing Alfred was standing so painstakingly erect for _her_. Her eyes darkened even more just watching Alfred take a hold of the organ and stroke it slowly once, his hand squeezing just at the head, offering enough pressure to press out the precum bubbling up at its tip.

Lien's eyes fluttered, her head falling back onto the sheets underneath when Alfred pressed close again. A strong arm wrapped around her thin frame and held her still while his other hand guided his cock to join with her womanhood. Lien moaned when she felt the tip press against her and anticipated the joining.

She was tighter because she hadn't had sex in two years in honesty. Lien enjoyed the way Alfred groaned while entering her. She enjoyed the stretching feel of his cock pushing into her and loosening her muscles.

She never thought she'd ever be able to have sex with Alfred F. Jones—_Braginsky_—not after their ruined relationship, and especially not after the American's marriage.

"A-Alfred, ah!" Lien gasped out right when the blond slid all of the way inside her. The throbbing feel of him made her moan and already she could feel the way her body clenched around him, trying to suck it deeper inside.

"Lien," Alfred whispered back, leaning down and kissing her neck, trailing kisses just up toward her jaw where he ended in nibbling on her earlobe. His moan hummed inside his throat making Lien moan herself, especially when he began to move inside her.

Hot hands gripped her hips, pressing inward under the strength of the grip nearly crushed her bones. Lien loved it. She reveled in the feel of Alfred gripping her so securely, of his deep and powerful thrusts, of the way his cock shoved into her and touched her womb. He was so deep inside of her that she cried out in relief.

Noses touched and lips parted to let out panting breaths that mingled, that's how close Alfred and Lien were. Lien understood Alfred remained so close to watch her face—to _see_ her. But she did not care either or.

Raising her hands she cupped his face and tilted his head while guiding his lips back to hers. She moaned into his mouth while he groaned and bucked against her, pulling out only to press back inside in quick sure thrusts. He had been slow at first, seeming to test her walls, stretch them to accommodate his girth, now he was picking up pace and Lien could feel the way his hips cracked against hers, rising her body on the bed before she fell back in an attempt to keep him inside when he made to pull back in rhythm.

His grip tightened around Lien and soon both arms rose and wrapped around her thin frame. She in turn wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close as they kissed each other's breaths away. His pace quickened and when Lien felt she needed to be closer she wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles and grinded against him.

The way her breast rubbed against his hardened chest made her eyes roll. The feel of his taut stomach flexing every time he used the power in them to thrust inside the woman underneath him made Lien's belly flip. Her heart pounded against her chest and her hands could not keep from wandering. She could not get enough of the American's body and damned that Russian man for taking him away from her.

Lien smiled though, she twisted in Alfred's embrace when he rubbed her perfectly inside. She had Alfred that night, and not Mr. Braginsky. Alfred was hard for her, not for him. Alfred wanted her, not Ivan Braginsky.

"I love you, Alfred!" Lien gasped out.

She had thrown her head back when the man thrust into her harder than before and struck her nerves inside all the right ways. When she recovered from the jolt of pleasure she looked up and cupped Alfred's face. She looked into his eyes to show him she meant what she had just cried out.

Alfred looked taken aback by her statement and so she said it again. "I love you, Alfred. I never stopped." Tears pricked her eyes again, this time it wasn't because of the immense stress of pleasure her body was taking in that moment but the emotions flowing out of her heart. She regretting breaking up with Alfred every single day. She regretted letting him go—more so from the fact that ravenous wolves had gotten to him before she could repent and ask for another chance.

Slowly, Alfred's shocked features softened. A gentle smile graced his lips and when he reached down and took hold of Lien's hand the girl's heart fluttered at the sight of the American pressing her held hand against his cheek. In his eyes she could see the relief and so she smiled with him and the two met in a deep kiss.

Lien didn't want the night to end, but she was content in their end. They clung to one another when Alfred came, deciding to remain inside Lien and hold his spilt seed inside her. Lien sighed at the feeling, her fingers running through blond strands in contentment.

But even so, Alfred was a married man and could not remain away from his spouse for long. Lien was saddened when he pulled away. She felt empty without him inside her, more so cold at the loss of his heat departing from her.

There was some calm when he leaned down over her after dressing and kissed her. He bade for her to remain in bed. She did so and slipped off into the most peaceful and pleasant dreams she's dreamt in years.

Alfred expected this to be the last time he ever saw Lien. It saddened him because of how much he loved that woman. After that night he knew for certain he would have married her if given the chance. But . . . it was all too late for that now.

Driving home Alfred expected a sudden execution. He didn't know how Ivan would go about it, but he was certain the Russian would know and seek a quick end to his unfaithful spouse. Bullet to the head is what Alfred figured and hoped for. He could care less about his life right now, feeling that death was a much better place than the hell he had to live with constantly in the Braginsky household.

Ivan had asked why he had been out so late, and Alfred answered him with a seemingly honest reply. He told him he'd been out overviewing the programs their charity donated to. Ivan, surprisingly, believed him.

Alfred hadn't been able to sleep properly in Ivan's arms that night. A paranoia arose inside him thinking that the moment he drifted off into deep dream that Ivan would strangle him in his sleep. He didn't understand why he suddenly cared so much about his life when he rightly forfeited it the moment he decided to sleep with Lien.

Nothing came of his worrying ideas however and Alfred remained to live another day. He had told himself that he wouldn't see Lien again, but after realizing his husband oblivious he found himself returning quickly by her side. The affair began after Alfred slept with her a second time.

Alfred didn't want her to, but Lien pitied him. She wished she were his wife as well as he. So Alfred came to help with the program when times wouldn't seem too suspicious. After they cleaned up from the group of children Alfred would remain for dinner and then they would bond.

Alfred wanted to take her out, to take her to the nice places that he had been taken to, but his want to continue seeing her kept him hidden. He knew about the eyes on him. If they had seen and understood his intent with Lien already then they had yet to act on anything, but Alfred didn't feel like dying anytime soon, not when he started becoming happy again.

He did give her gifts, however. If Ivan wanted him to spend money on things he wanted then he would, and what he wanted were presents to give to Lien.

"Oh, Alfred, you shouldn't have," Lien gasped when the American pulled out the beautiful diamond necklace and wrapped it around her neck himself. He moved her ponytail out of the way for a brief moment and kissed the back of her neck.

"You look beautiful in it," Alfred compliment, twirling the Vietnamese around and watching the way the gems sparkled against her collarbone.

Lien blushed. She sighed when Alfred wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of something distinct on him. She didn't ask because she figured it was the scent of Ivan. Her hands wrinkled into Alfred's jacket sleeves at the mere thought of that man touching Alfred when the American clearly didn't want him to. Lawful or not, it all wasn't right.

"How are you, Alfred?" Lien laid her head against his chest and contently listened to the beat of his heart. She didn't know if she had the heart to look at his face and see the struggle in his features just by thinking of _him_.

"Still breathing," Alfred answered. Of course the answer had a deeper meaning than to entice a chuckle from the other. Alfred never told Lien about Ivan's line of "business." He didn't want to frighten her, but more importantly he didn't want her to worry for him.

Finally, Lean leaned back from Alfred to look up into his eyes. "How is . . . Ivan?"

The frown wasn't likeable, Alfred could tell by the way Lien's face contorted at the sight of it. Rolling his shoulders he said, "Same old man that snatched me from the street four years ago." He was quick to pull out a smile and tap the woman's chin. "But, I'm not here to talk about him. I'm here to get away and be with my peace."

Lien smiled softly. The faint blush on her cheeks looked good on her. Alfred just wanted her to remain that way—smiling, blushing like the schoolgirl he first met her as.

Leaning down Alfred kissed her worries away, as well as his own.

Even if Ivan had to leave on longer trips to meet business partners Alfred would make sure he'd always return to the mansion at the end of the day. His trips back into his hometown were seen as his longing to be with his family. Alfred did not contact them however, instead he spent most of his time at a certain studio and would leave before the night sunk in too deep.

He was content with it, and so was Lien. For now that is.

"Mm, not now, dorogoy," Ivan said, pulling his mouth away from Alfred's seeking lips. It was nice that the American greeted him with kisses after Ivan returned from work. Gave him all the more reasons to come home. "I need to finish some pending work."

"Can't it wait?" Alfred questioned, pressing close to Ivan. The American knew the Russian could only take so much of his teasing. If Alfred was being especially willing then Ivan would likely toss him on the nearest clear surface and fuck his brains out. Alfred could really care less about it, but he strived to make sure his husband was content and happy and—unsuspecting.

Alfred could see it in Ivan's violet eyes, he was contemplating. Those pale lips parted to give a response possibly, but no word or sound came out. Instead, Alfred let out an ear-pleasing moan for the man who grabbed a hold of his ass and squeezed with need. Ivan wanted him; that was quite clear.

But Ivan had surprised Alfred by kissing him on the cheek and moving him aside. Had Ivan Braginsky really just passed up sex with him? Since when?

Alfred really didn't care at first. He was glad his ass was saved from a mind-numbing pounding but all at once worry began to seep in. Continuously Ivan would deny him even when he was being assertive.

Again, it wasn't like Alfred wanted sex with the Russian, it was only to make the older man happy. Alfred didn't want to know what a pent up grumpy Ivan was like and so every opportunity he offered himself, but in so Ivan denied him saying he had work or that he was tired or that he had to leave. Every. Damn. Time.

Now Alfred was the frustrated one. Eventually he gave up trying. A thought that Ivan had found himself a mistress came to mind. Ivan was leaving a lot more—which in turn gave Alfred time to head off to see Lien—but still, Alfred just didn't understand what it could possibly be. The Russian was either turning into a workaholic—whatever—or he found himself another bitch to fuck with—again, whatever.

Maybe soon Ivan would grow bored of Alfred and set him free. Shoot, he could go for a good divorce right now. He knew where he'd be running off to. Straight back home.

However, Alfred would soon come to learn this was not the case.

Ivan had returned from work after being gone for about a week. He wasn't in any particular kind of mood, but he did approach Alfred which was new recently.

"Alfred, I want you to come with me," Ivan, like usual, silently demanded. He wasn't frowning, nor was he smiling.

Obediently, Alfred did as told. He figured Ivan might just be taking him out somewhere or going to show him some new present he got for him—Alfred really hoped it wasn't another car, the multiple million dollar hotrods were enough to suffice. It was neither, however. Instead, the drive seemed to go on forever.

"So, where are you taking me today, Vanya?" Alfred asked. He noticed Ivan's left eye twitch at the endearing name. Strange, if Ivan had an issue with Alfred calling him that he hadn't before.

"You will see," Ivan said. He hadn't even looked at Alfred. Not for the entirety of the trip. He was seated away and kept his eyes peering outside the window.

Alfred shrugged it off as nothing . . . that is until the limo stopped and he was ushered out. The building was definitely one of Ivan's but the room he was led in was too closed in, and with the maze of halls before he doubted anyone would ever be able to find their way out if they wanted to try to escape. So, Alfred accepted his fate and remained where Ivan wanted him.

"Have a seat, Fredka." This time, Ivan was sweet. His smile could be considered unnerving as well. When he sat down he took the seat next to the one Alfred had picked and reached out to rub his knee, motioning to the American to watch toward one of the doors to the room.

In came this beauty. She was wearing a tight hot pink dress, her make up done in the same color. In all honesty she looked like a hooker.

"Isn't she pretty?" Alfred turned toward Ivan with a questionable look. What was Ivan trying to do exactly?

The Russian frowned from Alfred's silence and unwillingness to react to the woman. "Nyet? Fine." He turned and motioned for the woman to leave. Another came in after her. This one was a blonde dressed in all white, she had nice legs. "How about her?"

"I don't understand what—"

Ivan frowned again. He motioned the girl away and in came another, this one had darker skin and full lips. She had nice boobs too. "This one? Perhaps you like them darker?"

"What are you doing, Ivan?" Alfred didn't feel right. He didn't understand his husband whatsoever. Was he really encouraging him to pick a lady to fuck? Since when did Ivan Braginsky share?

Heh, perhaps Alfred was right. Perhaps Ivan found himself a mistress and the guilt of it all made him see to it that his hubby had a bitch of his own as well. In all fairness it made sense and possibly something Ivan would do.

"How about this one?" Ivan motioned for the other girl to leave and for the next one to enter.

The next woman, however, was ushered in by two of Ivan's men, and two more entered after she was shown off.

Alfred's eyes widened, his jaw dropped and his body jumped to his feet in less than a second. "LIEN!" The moment he made to rush over to the frightened woman held in those disgusting men's' grasps Ivan had stood, reached out, and taken Alfred by both wrists.

"Alfred!" The Asian cried in trembling fright.

"Let me go! Lien!" Alfred didn't give a damn about anything right then. All he wanted to do was rush to the Vietnamese who was in tears, struggling herself against the men holding her prisoner, and knock the lights out of all of them.

"Nyet!" Ivan's never raised his voice to Alfred and now the American could hear the anger in his tone. The way the Russian gripped his wrists hurt and he didn't lesson his hold one bit. He shook Alfred and turned him away from the sight of the Asian woman, but Alfred continued to try to turn his head in fear for Lien's safety. Ivan would have none of that and so shook him violently to get him to turn to him. When wide blue eyes looked up at him Ivan let the boy know just how infuriated he was. "You like fucking with Asians, Fredka? Is that which bitch you prefer more?"

Alfred's mouth moved to say something, but the rage inside his husband was overwhelming. Shit, he'd been caught. Now Ivan's gone and been the bastard Alfred always knew he was and dragged Lien into this.

There was no excuse. Since Ivan obviously knew there was no need for Alfred to explain himself. Instead, he took to struggling to be free of the Russian's hold.

"Let me go, damn it!" Alfred demanded. He turned his head toward where Lien was being held. He could see she was barely able to stand on her knees she was that frightened. "If you have an issue then take it out on me, not her!"

"You promised yourself to me!" Ivan bit back, shaking Alfred again, his eyes still a burning violent violet. "I chose you because I knew you would be faithful. How could you do this to me?!"

Alfred growled. He matched stares with Ivan now. "Fine! Yes, I fucked her. Yes, I was seeing her. You know why? Because she wasn't a controlling bastard!" Alfred saw something snap inside the man. But he could care less right now. "You want to kill me? Go ahead! One less problem for you to deal with!"

If Alfred could see the men behind him he would notice how warily they watched him. No one spoke to Ivan Braginsky like that—no one.

Alfred felt his heart stop when Ivan reached into his coat. He knew exactly what he was grabbing for and when the metallic frame of the gun slid out into view Alfred's life flashed before his eyes. Fine. He knew this could come about if he did what he did. He's had a good life—before Ivan that is. He was ready to rid himself of all this hell.

However, when Ivan pressed the gun next to his head and aimed the barrel of the weapon behind him Alfred's eyes widened. His head whipped around just in time to see the horror in Lien's eyes.

"NO!" Alfred cried.

It was too late. Ivan fired. He was a good shot too. It was likely Lien hadn't felt a thing in the last moments of her life.

"LIEN! !" This time Alfred pulled out of Ivan's grasp and made to run for her. Tears already breached his ducts and the sight of her limp bloodied body held up by the two men still holding her by both arms made Alfred sick.

The two other men standing near stepped forward and stopped Alfred from getting any closer to the corpse. Alfred was strong though and struggled against them until one managed to take his arm and pull it behind his back soon followed by the other. He was turned, faced toward Ivan who stood still and collected with the gun still in his hand. His amethyst eyes hard pressed on Lien's fallen form.

"MURDERER!" Alfred shouted while his throat constricted on the sobs tumbling over each other on their way out of his chest and up his throat. "YOU'RE A FUCKING MURDERER!"

At the shouts Ivan's eyes flicked back to Alfred and he narrowed his eyes. "And you are _MY_ HUSBAND!" Ivan looked simply murderous. Alfred only waited for him to point the gun at him next. Was only a matter of time. "How DARE you disrespect me like this!"

Alfred had plenty of comebacks, so many things he's wanted to say to the bastard since that first date, but the sobs overwhelmed him and weakened his resolve. His brows crashed together and the lenses of his glasses smeared with falling tears. The fucker shot Lien . . . not her . . . Ivan was supposed to kill him. None of this was Lien's fault and now . . . now . . .

"Kill me too!" Alfred cried out. "Just fucking do it!" When his hard eyes looked back to Ivan he saw the damn man standing there, not moving a damn muscle to fulfill his request.

With a jut from his chin the motion to take Alfred away was ordered. "Take him back to our room," Ivan commanded. His eyes then looked toward the fallen form of his husband's mistress. "I'll remain here to dispose of the body."

"What? No! NO!" Alfred protested. His strength began to return when the men dragged him out of the room. He turned, watching Ivan come closer to Lien's body and inspect her like she was some damn specimen under a glass. "Get away from her! Lien!" More sobs choked out of the American and no matter what he couldn't break free of the men's hold on him. He was dragged out of the room and never saw Lien again.

The sadness and horror of it all choked the life out of Alfred. He had no more strength to fight and surrendered in utter mournfulness. He was taken back to his and Ivan's room where he collapsed on a chair and cried into his hands.

He tossed his glasses to the ground, not even caring if they cracked. He hated this. All of it. This place was nothing but a damn prison and what a lavish prison it was.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, but the thoughts of Lien and what had happened to her kept running through his head. How could this have happened? Not to her. If Ivan was mad then the least he could have done was killed him. He wasn't worth sparing—unless the bastard wanted him kept alive to torture . . . yeah, that seemed like something Ivan would do.

Alfred clenched the fabric of his shirt. His heart hurt. All he wanted to do right now was die and go and join Lien. Any place was better than where he was right now.

The sound of the door unlocking had Alfred looking up. There was his husband, his eyes on him as he closed the door quietly. He didn't look very happy, but neither of them did.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Alfred asked through a hoarse throat and a sniff to inhale another sob.

Ivan didn't say anything, however. He simply walked up to him and stood only a foot away. He didn't say a damn thing!

"You fucker!" Alfred jumped to his feet and nearly bumped chests with Ivan. He was done being scared of the bastard. He didn't care what he could do to him anymore. "You should have killed me! I was the one who wanted it."

"If that were the case then she wouldn't have spread her legs," Ivan replied monotonously. "You were both to blame for the sin."

Alfred reached out and took hold of Ivan by his scarf tucked into his jacket. "Then why didn't you kill us both?!"

When Ivan reached up and grabbed a hold of Alfred's wrist, pulling one of his hands away he held him there, his eyes not showing any lower level of trust. "Because you are my husband. There is always room for you to prove yourself to me again."

"Prove myself?!" Alfred spat, pulling away from Ivan and turning around to have the chair cut between the two. He gripped the back tightly and leaned forward, jutting his jaw out in defiance and narrowing his eyes. "I. Don't. Want. To!"

Ivan closed his eyes and frustratingly sighed. When he looked at Alfred again the upset was evident in all of his features. Alfred's never been looked on so displeasingly by the man before.

"What was it? Did I give you too much freedom? Did I not give you enough attention, or gifts?" Ivan could be questioning Alfred, or just rambling on in his upset. "What did I do that caused you to stray from me?"

"_You never let me go_!"

Ivan blinked in surprise. His eyes widened at the sound of near fluent Russian passing Alfred's lips. He'd never taught him his language to save him from knowing anything too dangerous for his wellbeing, so, how . . . ?

Alfred chuckled at Ivan's stupefied state. "_Didn't think I knew your language? Well, I live long enough around you fucking Communists then I'll pick it up_!"

Ivan sighed. Casually he walked some ways off to their wardrobe. He unbuttoned his coat, took it off, and then hung it up. When he turned he began unwrapping his scarf. As he returned closer to Alfred the American watched him begin unbuttoning his cufflinks and then his vest.

"_What are you going to do_?" Alfred questioned. "_Going to beat me? Go ahead_."

Since Alfred wished to speak Russian, Ivan could comply with that game. He nodded over toward the bed. "_Go Lay down_."

"_Why should I_?" Alfred had such venom in his tone.

After pulling his vest off of his shoulders Ivan set it down on the chair nearest him. "_We're going to make love and fix all of this_."

Alfred sneered in disgust. "_Fix everything? There's no fixing what was never there_!" Alfred turned on his heel and walked over toward Ivan's desk. While he dug in its drawers he spat out, "_You took me away from school! Forced me into a relationship with you! I couldn't bear the thought of my family finding out about you so I hid away. I knew what you were—what you did—I was fucking terrified of you and so I did whatever you said and whatever you wanted! Never ONCE did you care how I felt_!" When Alfred looked up his eyes met Ivan's who remained still, looking at him warily. "Trapped," Alfred said, switching to English. "That's how I felt." He looked down and found it. He smiled at his savior. "But no more."

Ivan's eyes widened in horror. Alfred was holding the gun the Russian kept in his desk and when he pressed the barrel against that golden head of his, Ivan paled. The look on Alfred's face . . . he meant to do it.

"I don't mean a damn thing to you!" Alfred spat. The cool feel of the gun against his skull felt nice. He wasn't scared at all, in fact he felt strangely calm in this situation. "Once I'm gone you'll forget me. I don't care what you do with my body afterwards; burn it, stuff it in a dumpster. You can fuck it for all I care, you're probably a sick bastard like that anyway."

Ivan's heart stopped when Alfred pulled the trigger. The echo of a "click!" resounded across the room. More clicks followed before Alfred noticed the gun was empty—go figure. The American let out a frustrated sigh and reached down to look for a case of bullets—Damn Ivan was fucking cleaning this gun previously, so of course it wouldn't be loaded like it was supposed to and blowing out his brains.

Ivan moved after the failed attempt at suicide. He nearly broke Alfred's wrist with how tightly he had gripped him to make him drop the gun. Alfred struggled against him, reeled his fist back and made to swing at him, but Ivan caught his other arm too, pulling him along with him.

"Get your hands off of me!" Alfred shouted. When Ivan reached up and grabbed the hair on the back of his head he held him still while he ushered him over toward the bed. "LET ME GO!"

Alfred struggled. It was the first time he ever resisted Ivan so forcibly, and Alfred's grown strong in the past few years. He almost broke free of the Russian's hold a total of six times before Ivan had tossed him onto the bed. Even then he attempted to escape.

Ivan had caught the American by the ankles the moment Alfred tried rolling away and off of the bed. He pulled him down, turned him over and pressed his mouth to his. The resistance had never been so high, but Ivan continued to press into the kiss despite Alfred sealing his lips and shaking his head.

That night was the first time Alfred ever bit him—actually bit him to wound him. Ivan darted back and licked at his torn lip. Such angry eyes stared up at him. Despite the absence of Alfred's glasses those blue eyes of his seemed to follow Ivan and hone in on him, watching him intently.

Ivan would have beat anyone who ever dared to try and harm him, no matter the scale of the wound. But Alfred . . . he's never once touched him . . .

"Ah!" Alfred gasped, his eyes clenching shut when Ivan reached out and grabbed a hold of his chin. The strain in his neck hurt, but the tightening grasp around it hurt even more.

Ivan growled. His eyes looked dangerous, and his aura threatening. Alfred could feel the way his body wanted to lock and freeze in fright, but no more . . . he would live in fear no more. Ivan might as well kill him because he'd never stop resisting now.

Alfred wiggled his wrists, trying to pry them out of Ivan's grasp. One was free and so he used it to push at the man, trying to get him off of him. He would use the strength of his legs as well hadn't Ivan already settled himself between his legs.

The breath left the American the moment Ivan rolled his hips into his. Alfred demanded he stop, but the Russian continued to grind against him until he felt the tell-tale signs of a rise in his young husband. Alfred cursed himself, he cursed Ivan and so tried to bite him again.

Alfred wanted to gouge the man's eyes out. He wanted to bite his lips off and rip out his tongue. He wanted to mar his face so bad that he'd be unrecognizable and have to have a closed casket funeral. Only that would suffice the mentally traumatized American . . . only that!

But then why? Why was Alfred holding Ivan's head, his fingers in his hair? Why was he kissing him in return, pulling his lips into his mouth and groaning when that large tongue pushed past his teeth. He wanted to hurt Ivan so much and yet he was grinding back into him, just as fucking hard as the mob boss.

Clothes were ripped right off bodies. Alfred was naked and spread in the blink of an eye. He raked his nails down Ivan's back, meaning to break skin, to ruin every single tattoo placed thereon.

Ivan closed his eyes, groaned at the feel and from watching his reactions Alfred felt his dick twitch. He reached between them and rubbed himself. He wanted to get off when he shouldn't, but he wanted to get off quick so Ivan didn't have the pleasure of thinking he had done it.

Alfred's hands were caught and punished. Ivan had taken a piece of his ripped shirt and tied both of his hands to the headboard securing. Alfred should have protested violently, should have tried kicking Ivan off of him but his legs spread further in silent pleas that Ivan pleasure him and take him.

He could see his cock, his eyesight much better in this moment. It was already red and dripping, bobbing with the movement from his body. And when Ivan took a hold of him Alfred shamelessly threw his head back and cried out.

He cursed at Ivan all the more, telling him to pleasure him, to get his hands off of him all in the same breath. Alfred choked on the squeezes Ivan gave to him. It hurt him but the look on Ivan's face revealed he didn't care for any discomfort in his American spouse.

"Don't touch me!" Alfred spat when he felt Ivan shove two lubed fingers inside him. He and Ivan haven't had sex in a long while and so he was tighter than usual. It hurt and the tears clogged up Alfred's vision. No matter, he refused to look at the Russian, simply closed his eyes or turned his head away.

As punishment for such disrespectful shouts Ivan shoved another finger inside and pressed in deeper, all the way up to the knuckle. His other hand laid pressed flat against Alfred's thigh, keeping him spread while he used his weight to lean onto the other leg so it caused him no troubles. By the fourth finger Alfred was shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Don't fucking waste your time with me!" The tears in Alfred's eyes fell—whether it was from the pain stressing his body or the confusing ache in his heart was debatable. "Just do it, you bastard! It's all you want!" Alfred choked out a sob when those fingers twisted inside him and made his hips buck. "It's all you want." He was reduced to whimpering whines and tears. Apparently it was something Ivan didn't like.

Alfred jumped at the feel of a gentle caress to the side of his face. He opened tear-blinded eyes to see Ivan had moved his hand from his thigh and reached up to touch him. Alfred felt the way his thumb caressed just under his eye to wipe away the tears.

When Ivan leaned down and connected their lips it was a means to distract, his penetration this time around hurt and Alfred cried out into the older's mouth. Ivan did not stop to let Alfred adjust, instead he gripped the younger's hips tightly and rocked back into him, easing those anal muscles open through constant press. It took a while, but soon Ivan was moving as smoothly into his husband as if he'd been quite loose prior to penetration.

Alfred felt sick with himself. Sick because Lien had just been killed that very day and yet there he was, getting his brains fucked out by his murderous husband. The moans leaving his lips were louder due to his resisting mood, and the louder he cried, the harder Ivan thrust.

Ivan grasped Alfred's thighs, spreading them, holding them high against his waste as he moved inside him. With the way Alfred's hips moved against him one would think he wanted this. Perhaps he did in his twisted mind, but right now he wanted to die and he wanted Ivan to kill him.

The American was even kissing back when Ivan would lean down and connect their lips. But Alfred pulled on those folds, biting and sucking until it swelled and bled. Ivan did so in return, abused Alfred's lips until he couldn't breathe anymore. When Ivan pulled away the American coughed, sucking in wet breaths and moaning in unison.

Alfred's hands clenched into fists, pulling and tugging at the binds on his wrist. He rubbed them raw in trying to break free. Perhaps if he dislocated his thumbs—

"AH!" Alfred's eyes widened, his hips bucking hard against Ivan's pelvis, pressing down against the throbbing cock inside of him.

Alfred had wanted this all to end. He wanted Ivan to give him up, to release him whether it be a kick out on the streets or gun against his head. Alfred wasn't worth keeping so why . . . why was Ivan still holding onto him so tightly?

Turning his head to the side just as Ivan descended to kiss him again caused the older to press his lips to the American's cheek. Alfred closed his eyes tightly, letting his tears fall down. He bit his lips to keep from crying out the Russian's name. He knew how much Ivan liked to hear his name pass his lips in the throes of passion—again, Alfred only did this to please his husband. No more, he wasn't inclined to please him no more.

Alfred's arms strained more when his back arched. Ivan had yet to touch him and yet he felt so close—so disgustingly close. He could feel the man pressing his weight into his thrusts; Ivan was close as well.

The moving organ inside him began to swell, to expand Alfred's insides so deliciously. Alfred's moans were heard even through his sealed lips. He groaned when he felt Ivan grasp his chin and turn his face toward him. They shared a hard look from the other before Ivan leaned in and kissed him hard.

The Russian filled him up so much Alfred felt he'd burst. Ivan's eyes closed, his lips parted in a moan while he rocked into Alfred in his moments of orgasm, milking every last drop of semen from his dick. And he made sure it was all left inside the American.

Laying his forehead against Alfred's neck Ivan thrust the last of himself inside the younger. He held his hips close to his pelvis, holding him still even after his cock softened if only to keep himself inside him. Alfred felt sick, so full of Ivan that he felt the taste of him in his mouth and all he wanted to do was get him out of his system.

Alfred cried again. "Get out of me . . ." His demand was barely above a whisper. His vocals week from cursing, from shouting. "Get out!" Alfred felt Ivan's gaze on him, but he kept his head turned to the side and his own gaze off into nothing. He didn't want to deal with Ivan, their connection just made meant nothing to Alfred. Nothing.

Oddly enough Ivan listened. He pushed himself away and pulled out. Gently he laid Alfred down onto the mattress, unwrapping his arms from him.

It almost seemed like déjà vu to Alfred. He watched Ivan pull out a robe, wrap it around his naked body and then turn to leave. He halted a moment with his hand on the doorknob of their bedroom door. The Russian looked at him, his gaze lingered for a moment, but Alfred would not look at him, he just continued to lay there unmoving. He thought he might have heard Ivan sigh, but he wasn't sure nor did he care, all he cared about was when Ivan left to room, shutting the door behind him. The clicking sound of the lock echoed into the quiet room louder than it should have.

His lips began to tremble first, his body followed afterwards. More tears leaked out of him and Alfred tried his best to keep in the sobs. It didn't work and he cried for . . . he didn't know how long—nor did he know that Ivan had remained right behind their locked bedroom door listening to him in silence.

This state did not leave Alfred as weak as he thought it would though. In his sobs he pulled against the binds Ivan left him in. He ignored his aching protesting body and twisted around, pulling on the ties. When one hand managed to slip free the other ripped out of the bind with ease.

Alfred looked at his wrists, they were red and raw and bleeding. He choked out a wail. They resembled how he felt; shackled, bound, and trapped. Pulling his wrists to his naked chest he rubbed them soothingly and sniffled the rest of his cries back into himself.

He sat in bed for a while, trying to stop his shaking limbs. He would have just fallen over and cried himself to sleep hadn't he remembered something and quickly scrambled over to the lampstand.

It was the one on Ivan's side of the bed. It was where he kept the lubricant and . . .

Alfred pulled out the gun, rubbing the barrel before pushing it against his head. Ivan always kept a gun close to him when he was sleeping and when he was working. Alfred never thought he'd ever be glad for that habit.

Closing his eyes Alfred pulled the trigger. He frowned when the damn thing clicked. He sighed and looked into the chamber . . . empty, like everything else.

"Dammit!" Alfred tossed the gun hard across the room. The sound of it flying against the other side of the wall let him know his pitcher's arm was still quite good. He cried again, pushing his face into his hands and cried.

Alfred didn't give a damn if everyone in the mansion heard his cries. They sure as hell clearly didn't care about him. Not a single damn person in that household.

Now that Alfred knew Ivan wouldn't kill him he was all out of ideas on how he'd meet his end. He remembered on their wedding one of their vows was "Until death do we part." Now Alfred feared death wouldn't be enough for the damn Russian. An eternity even beyond the grave; that's what Ivan wanted and Alfred couldn't escape.

No matter how hard he tried Alfred just couldn't seem to escape.


	4. The Perfect Present

**DOTR****: Last chapter, everyone. Thanks so much for liking it. Never thought this oneshot would continue but thanks to the love it became what it has. Auf Wiedersehen!**

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The number of how many times Alfred tried to kill himself was lost from the constant rise of the attempt. Now, however, the American pursued the means to end their marriage another way.

Ivan's frown was the same for this one as it had been the others. This parchment wasn't spared from his upset when he tore it in two, just like the others.

Alfred's reaction to the torn papers was the same. He simply sat there, quietly watching his husband crumble the parchment—and if he was in a particularly foul mood he'd burn them. Alfred closed his eyes and leaned his lips against his hands while his elbows rested on the top of their dining table—he'd barely touched his food and saw it more important to hand the Russian the documents first.

"I'll just get another one," Alfred spoke up, his tone horribly flat and unflattering.

Ivan slammed his fist down onto the table and glared at his American husband who sat across from him—gone were the days when they used to sit side-by-side. "I refuse to sign any damn thing you give me. I will not authorize a divorce!"

"It's what I want."

Ivan sighed. Alfred's been saying that same thing ever since the incident with the American's mistress. It annoyed Ivan to no end and frustrated him beyond words. So they drifted apart. While before Ivan couldn't wait to return home and be with his husband now he opted to stay out late, head off on more trips, and remain in separate rooms than Alfred.

The cold shoulder was what hurt Ivan. Even when he tried to touch Alfred the American would flinch away, or worse, just lay there like a dead fish. He did that multiple times when Ivan tried to make love to him. No matter what he did Alfred somehow resisted reacting to anything and in so Ivan could not get hard.

They'd been married for nine years now and for the past five Alfred's been less than desirable to Ivan. But it wasn't like the Russian could go out and pick some damn skank off the streets just to relieve himself. He was a very picky man and rightly so because it meant he could only get hard for certain people, now it was all Alfred. He was the only one who could get a rise out of him, but lately . . . even he's killed his sexual appetite.

So Ivan was beyond frustrated and with Alfred giving him divorce papers every day he's just about had it. He didn't know what he could do. He didn't want to let Alfred go. He was his husband and he knew if he lawfully let him go the American would likely be taken by someone else—a man like Alfred wasn't single for long.

Ivan Braginsky was always known for being a smart man, but as for dealing with domestic issues . . . when they fell out of his control he just went crazy. So he'd leave to try to deal with the problem on his own.

He's thought of various ways to try to fix his marital problems but nothing helped. Alfred didn't want more expensive gifts. Alfred didn't want to be taken to high class societal events. Alfred didn't want Ivan to touch him.

This was Ivan's last idea and attempt to try to appease his husband.

"I do not like it when you smoke that poison around me," Ivan admitted, his frown evident of his dislike for the vapors filling the room he and an old friend sat in.

The Asian opened his eyes, annoyed that the pleasure from the recent inhale was interrupted by the rude Russian's comment. He pulled the pipe away from his lips and waved it toward the man. "This is my home, I can do whatever I please, Braginsky."

Ivan sighed, attempting to hide the cough from the profuse fumes encasing him. This man, Yao Wang, was an old family friend. He was a good distance older than the Russian, but young enough for their parents to have known each other. If there was anyone Ivan could consider as much as a friend then it would be this man. They'd yet to point guns at the other.

"Why are you here anyway, Braginsky?" Yao questioned, his amber eyes scanning the larger male. He blew out another puff of smoke. "The co-oversee isn't for months. It isn't like we are such good friends that we may visit the other whenever we may."

Ivan chuckled at the thought. What a ridiculous notion.

"I am willing to change that status," Ivan spoke up, his eyes meeting the Asian's. God, did Ivan hate Asians.

A thin black brow rose over Yao's eye. He looked interested, but more so curious. With one last inhale he blew out the fumes and then placed his pipe away, inhaling the exhales of his nostrils.

"How so, Ivan?" Yao leaned back on the couch he was seated on. He was relaxed and smiling. The smokes always left him in a better mood than usual.

"We have known each other for a long time, da?" Ivan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His smiles were fake and his companion knew this. Ivan Braginsky smiled for no one—at least not anymore. "Our fathers treated each other with respect. Not a single incident happened in our strings. We did not get into your business and you did not get into ours." It wasn't until Ivan took over as head that he formed some sort of agreement between his ring and Yao's. It wasn't strong or meant to bind, but it was closer than it had been with their fathers.

There was a pause. The two heads simply sat staring at the other, both offering smiles of respect and inwardly pressing down the urge to fight for dominance. Ivan had his states he ruled and Yao had his own, though they were fewer than the number Ivan had risen since coming to power, Yao was content with owning larger more populated states.

Finally, Ivan spoke again. "I am willing to negotiate terms for a settled peace between our people."

Yao rose his brow again. He nodded slowly. "You mean to form a bond between our syndicates?"

Ivan rolled his shoulders. "The more we speak the deeper the pact can be. Firstly I will assure a promise to never cause harm to your people if you follow suit."

Yao chuckled. "You think we to just sign papers and call it a truce? It does not work like that, Braginsky."

Ivan resisted the urge to frown. "Da, I am not ignorant. This is why I would ask you give me your sister to do with as I please."

Yao chuckled and outstretched his arms. "You can have as many as you want, free of any debt."

Yao's father was notorious for his plethora of mistresses. His most dubious one no doubt was Sakura, a Japanese Geisha who had born him a son who threatened Yao for right of head upon the man's death. Wang was legitimate and so won most's loyalty. He still has to deal with his half-brother, and Ivan has run into him on more than one occasion—he didn't like him either—especially not after he set his eyes on Ivan's American husband.

Kiku Honda was a dangerous yakuza lord that Ivan and Yao agreed should have been smothered upon birth. However, he had been the only other boy besides Yao to have been sired by Mr. Wang and so his life was spared if only for gender favorability. The number of half-sisters Yao had was probably innumerable.

"I request your sister, Chun-Yan," Ivan stated. Immediately he watched a frown distort Yao's previous jesting features. Of course it would, the Chinese girl was Yao's only full-blooded sibling, born quite a large amount of years after him as well. Yao wasn't too keen on her seeing anyone—many a fawning boyfriend had found themselves dead just by touching her wrong. She was a mature woman now, single and likely to stay that way thanks to her overbearing brother—such a shame.

"You request her now when before you rejected her?" Yao questioned. Ah, yes, bring up that weak attempt at an alliance their fathers had suggested. Chun-Yan would no doubt have made a decent wife but Ivan did not care for her—what was the point of having a spouse if one cared nothing for them? So, since Ivan refused to wed her the whole idea was forgotten and never brought up. Ivan should have figured Yao and his family would see it as some sort of dishonor.

"Da." This time, Ivan kept a cool head, which meant he was in control of the conversation. "I will have none of the others. Only Chun-Yan will allow my proposition to work."

Yao still didn't look to happy and more than ready to decline the offer. But Ivan wasn't afraid. He held more territory and was still gaining assets. He would settle for no less than Yao's sister. It was why he came to see him after all.

"She's just turned twenty-five as of . . . last Monday, da? Right now I believe she is having her favorite caramel Frappuccino latte at the Starbucks on the corner of Third. She's with two of her female friends. That's nice, at least you allow her some company besides yourself." Ivan couldn't help but let loose his smirk at the way Yao shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He could see those slanted eyes of his glance toward his guards standing at the doorway with Ivan's, but he didn't call them over to show Ivan he wasn't afraid of all the knowledge he knew on his sister . . . but Yao was afraid, it was written all over his face.

"You have no right to take her if I do not give her," Yao came to remind, to try to show power. "Besides, you are already married."

Ivan would have none of that. "Da, but you should not question my intentions. Rest assured that if I wished to take her as a measly mistress she'd be treated fairly."

Yao's brows furrowed. "How can you expect me to honor anything when you would disrespect my sister like such?"

Ivan smiled that infamous grin of his. "I expect you to honor much. Let us talk deeper into this subject and come to terms soon before Miss Wang returns home." Ivan looked down at his watch to add to effect. "And it looks like she'll be home around 5 as usual." When Ivan smiled back at Yao his grin grew wider at the descending frown on that cocky Asian's face. Just because this wasn't Ivan's territory didn't mean he didn't have eyes there.

The talks went well, at least Ivan thought so. He didn't particularly care for Yao's string and would gladly get into a war with him should issues arise, but for the respect of the Chinese man's sister Ivan would keep his promise to never aim a gun or allow his men to throw a punch. They were granted access to new territory as Yao was to Ivan's, though the Russian doubted Yao would visit his holding too often.

Even if Ivan did walk away with more agreements in his favor there was one that displeased him.

"Chun-Yan will remain here, with me," Yao insisted despite the subtle threats that could easily break previous agreements with violence. "If you wish to see her and be with her then you'll have to travel here." Yao managed one last controlling grin despite his losing situation. "You have the finances, I'm certain it won't be too hard to stop by every once in a while."

Ivan wasn't pleased with leaving the Wang sister there. Though he and Yao agreed on a mutual partnership that did not mean he trusted him. While Yao has never done it before Ivan did not doubt he could attempt to hurt his sister—especially now that she was Braginsky territory.

While it would have been such a laugh to see her come home and have Yao reveal these things to her, Ivan had to return home. He left as soon as he wrapped up loose ends. For the first time in years an excitement built up inside him and it boiled over when he returned home. He actually wanted to see Alfred for once, but all the feeling of positivity was shot down as usual.

"Why do you even bother coming back?"

It was late, much too late for anyone to be up at this hour save for the night guards, yet there Alfred was . . . seated at the bar with a glass full of bourbon in his hand. Ivan could tell he'd been drinking it all night, he could see it in his lidded eyes and slight slurred motions. The American could be one mean drunk.

Ivan frowned at the unpleasing sight of his husband. He once remembered Alfred greeting him with open arms and warm kisses—but Ivan had been told it had all been a charade. What he wouldn't do just to get that fantasy back, even if it was just a fantasy.

"It is late. Go to bed," Ivan commanded. He could use a drink himself, but would not come close to the bar in the entertainment room if Alfred resided near it.

Alfred flinched. He hated being told what to do. He frowned and slammed his glass onto the counter of the bar, slipping out of the stool and standing on his feet. He surprisingly held himself high for one so drowned in booze.

"Have I not made my stance clear?" Alfred's tone was unpleasant. Ivan wrinkled his nose just at the listen of it. "Have I not caused enough mayhem and annoyance to you? What will it take to keep you away?"

Ivan looked at Alfred. They met gazes. "Go to bed, Alfred," Ivan commanded once more. He'd learned how to control his temper much better when dealing with the American like this.

"I don't fucking listen to you," Alfred spat, turning back around and seating himself at the empty bar. "Stay here for all I care. But don't expect me to acknowledge your damn presence."

Ivan expected to find the blond passed out on the bar in the morning. To his surprise the bar was vacant. Ivan had made sure Alfred was still in the perimeters of the house—he hadn't been allowed to leave without a chaperone of some sort after the scandal, and his funds were cut and foundations shut down, if he wanted to buy anything he'd have to go through Ivan and that didn't happen often.

The American was in his room. Ivan made sure he was still breathing by going up to him and touching him. He was still warm, still attractive, and still very much alive. After they grew apart, instead of keeping their marital room they just moved into two other rooms distant of the other. Ivan longed to return to that room with his spouse in his arms, but he wondered if that would just remain a dream of his now.

Ivan sighed, he need some vodka. He wanted to stay longer in his main home with his husband, but Alfred made sure to strain his time spent there. Divorce papers, constant disrespect and disregard for the head of the home. Alfred knew Ivan hated it and he knew it would chase the Russian off.

It did. Ivan packed his things and stayed away for a while. He'd travel to California to visit Yao and his pretty little sister. It was such a shame he was more relaxed there. The Chinese girl pleased him immensely and he graced her with various gifts she was actually thankful for.

Yao was still not too fond of the settlement, especially when Ivan would insist that he and Chun-Yan have their affairs in private. Yao could be sneaky and have a way of watching, but Ivan was just as smart as he and often outwitted him. He did not harm the man's sister and in turn he obliged by their agreement that she remain with Yao upon his departure.

Ivan really wanted to stay with her and the relief she helped provide, but he had to return to see his husband. The spiteful words thrown at him by Alfred were common, but they still hurt, especially when they came from the American. Ivan loved Alfred, and to see him so upset with him—like one who didn't even love him—it infuriated Ivan.

Ivan tried to stay out of Alfred's petty fights. He knew he wanted him riled up. He wanted him screaming at him and raising hands to him. Alfred wanted Ivan to lash out in any way.

So many times Ivan had come close, so very close. One such night he had let Alfred annoy him when he shouldn't have. He exchanged horrible words back, words that Alfred just soaked up and shot back just as evil.

Ivan could take no more. He left. He meant to wait, to let his anger dissipate, but he returned in a haste and it had surprised the American, though Alfred was quick to narrow his eyes and bare his teeth to bite.

"Forgot your fucking wallet or something?" Alfred teased when he noticed the Russian in the hallway upstairs just as he headed up to bed. "Or maybe you've finally come to your senses and decided to sign the damn papers."

Ivan growled. His face was the epitome of frustration. "You will be quiet!" Ivan demanded. This was why he stayed out longer, to let his temper cool, a few days just wasn't enough. "You will not demand anything of me. I am the head of this household, not you! I will NOT sign those papers."

"Why not?" Alfred jutted his chin out. He did this in hopes Ivan would hit him, but he never did, no matter what Alfred did the Russian would not strike his husband. "It'll save you the stress of dealing with me. You once wanted me happy and now when I tell you the only way I can be happy is through a divorce you deny me? Yeah, some big man good on his word!"

"It will not make _me_ happy," Ivan bit back.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "It's always about you, isn't it? 'Oh! He's good looking enough, say, men, grab him and bring him home for dinner so I can fuck his life up!' Never ONCE did you care what I thought about anything. Now I don't care what you say or do, I'm telling you flat out that I'm MISERABLE here. Nothing you can say or do or even give will make me happy. I want out. I don't want to be here."

"You're not allowed to leave," Ivan so demanded.

Alfred sighed, crossing his arms. "You're nothing but a damn control freak. I hate people like you." He turned to leave to his room, but Ivan spoke up.

"You don't understand you will not be safe even if I comply with your senselessness."

Alfred turned around. His frown was just God-awful. "Do you think I care about protection? Hell, before the divorce papers I wanted to put my lights out, land myself six feet under. Threatening me with death will not work, _Vanya_."

Ivan ground his teeth. His arms remained at his sides, hands clenched into tight fists. "You don't understand." The American never did. "There are things worse than death one can go through." Especially for someone as beautiful as Alfred.

"You mean like living here."

Ivan's fists clenched tighter. Everything else said was strictly through grit teeth. "I have given you a life of luxury. Never once have I mistreated you! Whatever you want I give!"

"Except my freedom," Alfred reminded. Of course he would, as if the papers weren't mentioned enough.

"You cannot be free!" Ivan insisted. "Not with your life so entrenched in my world now."

"Well, whose fault is that, huh?" Alfred was shaking just as much as Ivan—both looked like they wanted nothing more than to connect fists with faces. "You could have prevented this. You want me safe? Then why did you drag me into this, huh?"

"Because I loved you!" Ivan shouted. He still did. He still loved Alfred. "I wouldn't allow anyone else to have you."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. He nodded his head slowly. "You see? You're nothing but a selfish bastard." Ivan could hear the younger's tone lowering. The pitch almost sounded like a whine as Alfred turned around again, rushing toward his bedroom door. "You never once considered how I felt! I never loved you! NEVER!"

It hurt to hear that. Ivan was used to the names, the vile curses, and the weight of Alfred's wedding ring hitting him from an angry toss by the American. Alfred never wore the band anymore. So many things he did that just broke Ivan's heart and the man hated it because he had wanted to marry Alfred because he felt he'd never do such a thing.

His heart was tender, much too tender to handle all of this. So, if his last resort did not work then Ivan really didn't know what he'd do. He simply couldn't live with Alfred like that . . . just couldn't.

Ivan's attention caught at the sight of Alfred suddenly darting out of his room. His eyes were wide, mouth agape and hand still on the doorknob. He looked at Ivan, his lips moving to say something, but his head only whipped around back into his room.

Ivan was cautious. He didn't know how Alfred would react to this, and from his reactions now he still wasn't sure on how it would transform later. So, he stood there, waiting for Alfred to speak.

"What . . . w-what have you done?!" Alfred kept looking into his room and then back at Ivan. "Ivan . . . what . . .?"

Even if the result would be negative, Ivan pulled out a soft smile for his spouse. Coming closer he approached Alfred. He was surprise he hadn't darted away or demand he stay a few feet from him, but Alfred said nothing to Ivan coming to stand next to him, to let his shoulder touch his and to let his hand rise and press gently against his back, guiding the younger back into the room he had claimed as his own and back toward the bed.

"Do you like?" Ivan paid close attention to Alfred and all of his mannerisms and expressions. It almost seemed like before, when they had dated, every present bought for the American was looked for acceptance, just like this last gift.

Alfred's mouth opened. Ivan could tell he was trying to speak, but just as he began shaking his head the American turned to him, worried blue eyes looking up at him through lenses. "God, you're not into kidnapping now, are you?!"

Ivan reached forward and pressed his finger to his spouse's lips. Shaking his head he said, "Nyet." Ivan then pulled away and came closer to the bed himself. He kept his eyes on Alfred and tried to show him not to be afraid, but the American looked pale, looked more than worried on about the gift lain on his bed.

Ivan sighed. He didn't like to touch, partly because he didn't quite know how to handle Alfred's new gift. But he wanted it closer to the American and so he reached into the carrier and picked up the child.

He was a little thing, but at least he didn't make too much of a fuss while Ivan plucked him out of his cushioned carrier he was brought in with and held him in his hands almost awkwardly. The Russian turned and came closer to Alfred who backed up only by one step.

"You like children, da? Take him," Ivan insisted, holding out the little baby.

Alfred was still frozen for a time. He didn't act too quickly, but he was reaching out to take the child into his arms when he noticed Ivan's lack of knowledge in handling them.

"No," Alfred muttered when he reached out and scooped up the child. He cradled him in his arms and held him close to his chest. "That's not how you hold them," he scolded the Russian. His eyes were glued to the child, his tone dying and words left him. "Like this . . . this is how you should hold him."

Ivan grinned. It looked like Alfred very much liked his gift. "He's ours, Alfred."

That golden head whipped to Ivan so quickly the Russian swore he'd break his neck. Alfred stared at Ivan owlishly. "You . . . you adopted?"

Ivan pressed close. His eyes darted down to view the babe. He wanted to wait until the child was a few years older, but after dealing with Alfred like this he just couldn't wait any longer.

"Nyet," the Russian said. "He is biological."

Again, Alfred looked at Ivan like he'd grown a second head. Those blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. When Alfred began bouncing the fussing child he turned himself from Ivan, not wanting to look at him.

"Finally found yourself someone to put up with you?" Alfred was referring to a mistress, Ivan knew this.

With the American turned from him, Ivan reached out and rested his hands on those sharp shoulders. He knew that Alfred wouldn't pull away, not with the child in his arms. So he pressed close again, leaning over Alfred and watching his facial expressions toward the babe in his arms. They seemed . . . soft.

"You are my only love, Alfred," Ivan swore. "I did this for you." Ivan didn't like children, but he knew Alfred did and he had hoped that having one would help calm him . . . looks like he was right so far.

He heard Alfred clear his throat before feeling him turn, pulling away from him and then holding out the child with a half-smile. "Then why don't you take care of him since he's yours?"

Ivan blinked. He didn't understand what Alfred was doing before he sighed and gently pressed the child back into Alfred's bosom. "He is yours too."

The looks Alfred was giving to Ivan were as if he didn't know who he was. Alfred was that confused.

Ivan simply smiled and offered to explain. "It is not hard to convince doctors to provide a child bonded through two males." Nor was it hard to collect Alfred's DNA while Ivan provided the sperm. "The woman who carried him was kept healthy and in fit shape. He was born this past January 3rd. I wanted to wait a little while until he was old enough," More like was potty trained, could walk, and speak, "before revealing him to you."

Alfred did the math in his head. It was March 30th right now so this little guy in his arms was only three months old. Looking at him he looked healthy and quite large. Was he really . . . had Ivan really . . . ?

Alfred looked up at Ivan. His lips parted to ask something but the gentle press of the Russian's mouth halted all advancing words. When Ivan pulled his lips away he smiled.

"You will stay, da?" Ivan glanced once to the baby in Alfred's arms before meeting those confused and conflicted blue eyes. "You are a parent now, Alfred. Children need both parents to raise them. So, you will stay."

Ivan felt it was time to let it all settle. He backed away and exited the American's room. He spared one last glance before closing the door gently.

Alfred simply couldn't take his eyes off the child. The little one wasn't moving anymore. His face wasn't scrunching up and the American could hear no more noise coming out of his sealed mouth. He was sleeping, he was curled close to Alfred's chest and he was sleeping.

The sudden intake of it all had the American's knees weak. He slipped down onto the side of his bed, out of breath and at a loss for words. He had not expected to wake up that day and deal with the daily rituals of his wretched restrained married life only to find a child to call his own at the end of the day.

Was the baby really . . . had Ivan really . . . done all of this?

Just how long had Ivan planned all of this? Alfred knew the Russian didn't care for children, in fact he remembered constant frowns when the little ones ran around their legs wherever they happened to run into them. Alfred was more than surprised; shocked, befuddled, flabbergasted.

It was a ploy, it had to be. He and Ivan had been fighting tooth and nail more than ever. Whenever the Russian returned Alfred made sure to give him hell. He tried to chase him away, to make him so angry with him he'd either kill him and get rid of him. How come nothing ever seemed to work out the way Alfred wanted?

A child? Ivan decided "creating" a child for the both of them would—what, calm him down? Alfred scoffed at the idea. The very thought of Ivan bringing home a baby to put more shackles on him made his blood pump and his heart race with rising anger, and yet . . . when his eyes turned down and he looked at the sleeping lump in his arms his temper cooled and a tenderness boiled over.

Soon Alfred was digging through the baby's carrier to find the necessities he needed. He found some blankets, a diaper bag next to it filled with bottles, wipes, powder, and diapers but that was all. Alfred sighed. He looked around his room for anything to make a makeshift cradle, he didn't want the little guy to strain his neck in the carrier, but Alfred's room wasn't designed for a baby—nothing in the house was.

So, Alfred made sure to complain to his husband come morning breakfast. He tried to ignore the way Ivan's eyes watched him when he entered the dining room, especially when the Russian grinned at the the way Alfred's arms seemed to not want to let go of their newest addition.

"You bring an infant home and don't even have a properly prepared room set out for him," Alfred criticized when he took his seat and hoisted the wide-eyed curious child against his shoulder, bouncing him slightly in his arms.

"Da, we can arrange his room together," Ivan suggested. The sight of Alfred's obvious attachment to the child made the Russian's chest swell with pride—whether it was because his last ditch plan had worked, or that his husband coddling their child was endearing. "I will call for the furnish today. They should get here by noon."

"I want him in my wing," Alfred insisted. He had shifted the three-month into the bend of his arms again, his blue eyes scanning his features—looking for his own in the child. No, it was still too early to see who he took after more.

Ivan could care less where the child was stationed. He didn't plan on insisting with its needs, he had caretakers for that. Alfred was not expected to tend to the babe either, but if the American so wanted to . . . well, that would certainly keep his mind from wandering to new ways in which to end his own life.

"Da, if that is what you want." Ivan was extremely compliant with Alfred's demands this time, so long as they only coincided with the child's.

So Ivan called in an order to a furniture store. Anything having to do with a baby—crib, changing table, walker, playpen, etcetera—was demanded. Around noon the delivery came and was built by the men moving the furniture around.

It didn't take long before the room right across the hall from Alfred's designated sleeping place became something fit for a new child. The transformation happened so quickly that Ivan could see the surprise on his husband's face. Alfred had yet to put the child down in the crib constructed for him. He simply walked around the room, taking in each sudden change.

Holding the infant with one arm Alfred used his free arm to reach out and test the durability of the newly constructed furnish in the room. After he seemed satisfied he turned toward a cushioned rocking chair—for the weary caretaker that would no doubt need a relaxing break in the seat every once and a while. Alfred sat down, his eyes still looking at every newly changed detail of the room. It was a baby's room definitely, Alfred's baby's room.

"There is no need to cling," Ivan finally spoke up after noticing that it seemed as if his American husband didn't plan on setting the child down any time soon. "Toris is well equipped to take care of him if you so wish." Alfred liked Toris, and so Ivan designated him as a plausible caretaker for the newest addition to their family.

To Ivan's surprise he caught that slight frown twitch in the corner of the blonde's lips. Strange reaction for bringing the Lithuanian up. Now Ivan watched Alfred glue his eyes back to the slumbering child. The little one began moving in his arms. He looked ready to waken.

With a few chirping squeaks the babe opened his eyes and looked up at Alfred. Pleasantly the child remained quiet. His mouth opened and tongue poked out a few times while staring up into the face of his parent. The smile that came from the stare-down made Ivan's heart flutter, Alfred's soft smiles aimed at the child were filled with present love, that much Ivan could see.

"His name is Alexei Franklin Braginsky," Ivan said, disrupting the silence to offer the name he had picked out for the babe. Wide blue eyes looked up at him. Alfred's mouth lay open as if to say something, but no sound passed his throat. Ivan simply smiled. "Do you like?" Aren't the doll's eyes round and pretty? Aren't the curly hair on the doll soft? Do you like what the doll is wearing? It was how Ivan saw the child even if he couldn't realize it like his husband had. Just a pretty new porcelain plaything to appease an unsatisfied husband. But, by the looks of it, the doll might be the husband's most favorite present.

That night Alfred didn't sleep in his bed, nor the child in his cradle. In the morning the two were found slumbering together on that rocking chair in the nursery. The babe had taken to Alfred just as much as the American had taken to him.

It was pleasant to see a well thought-out plan come together so easily. Ivan had been worried, unsure if Alfred would even care for the infant. He did, so much so that he quite frankly wasn't too fond of having Ivan anywhere near the child.

"I got 'im, I got 'im!" came Alfred's voice as he dashed out of the kitchen with a warm wet rag. Once he made it to the child's side where the babe was seated in a high chair, the American bent down and began cleaning the little one's fingers and mouth of the smeared food. He had been crying, and Ivan had decided to try to quiet him by shoving a spoonful of baby food into his mouth—Alexei didn't take too kindly to that. "Go away so he doesn't wipe food all over your sleeves," Alfred recommended in an insisting tone. He knew how upset Ivan could get over simple stains.

"He was crying and I thought he was hungry," Ivan said, pulling his arm away and setting the small jar of baby food down on the kitchen table. "I guess I was wrong."

Alfred sighed. He turned and picked up the jar and looked at it. With a groan he turned to Ivan and shook his head. "He doesn't like this one. Can't get him to eat it." Alfred sighed again, throwing his hands in the air before unbuckling the baby from the high chair and pulling him into his arms. "Dammit, it's everywhere. Let's get you a bath, big guy."

Ivan observed quietly. He knew Alfred didn't care for his presence or handling with the child at that, but this was Ivan's home and that was Ivan's child, he could do what he damn well pleased. So, there he stood, leaning against the arch of the doorway while Alfred bathed the child to clean off the mess he had made of himself that afternoon. Alexei was getting better at sitting up with each passing month, but Alfred still always had a hand on his back to balance him.

The child enjoyed baths. Ivan would grow annoyed with the way the babe flailed his arms and struck at the water only for it to soak the front of Alfred's shirt, but he was not the one on his hands and knees washing away the spit-up baby food from the child. Alfred kept to himself, knowing Ivan was watching, was standing just behind him. The Russian often wondered what he spoke about when he was absent—he sometimes caught the sound of the American speaking to the child while passing by the nursery's closed doors.

But Ivan told himself he was content. He stayed away. He gave Alfred his space. He let him raise the child.

Coming home wasn't such a burden anymore. The sight of Alfred sprawled out on the ground playing with their son was a much better welcome-home than those from the previous years. Alfred still wouldn't smile at him or grant him welcoming kisses, but at least those hate filled eyes were busy watching their son take his first steps and speak his first words.

The atmosphere in their home had changed dramatically. The pungent press before was no longer dampening moods and urging migraines. Laughter echoed down the halls instead of teeth-tearing screams. The sight of Alfred carrying Alexei on his shoulders was now so common that the remembrance of his favorite spot at the bar was forgotten—thought of as a dark dream.

Ivan rubbed his cheeks. They hurt. He couldn't remember smiling so much, at least not before Alfred's affair. Truly Ivan was only happy when Alfred was.

For the first time in five years Ivan didn't want to leave his main home. But he had territory to oversee and partners to negotiate with. While away he kept close tabs on his husband and child. Surprisingly Alfred was more than compliant. He made no trouble for the guards or the servants, if anything Ivan was only informed that the American took to eating in the nursery, residing so much there that it was like his second room.

Ivan was flattered that, when the time came, Alfred wanted to celebrate Alexei's first birthday extravagantly, it was endearing but Ivan had the final say and he made it so that it was only among the household. Ivan didn't understand the idea of "birthday parties" yes, and the idea of overbearing guests with other brats could have played a factor in his negative thoughts for such an event, but in reality Ivan did not want anyone—friend or foe—to know about Alexei. The Russian didn't like children and just about gave all rights to his upbringing to Alfred, but unbeknownst there was a concern for the baby's safety and if keeping him isolated would ensure a better health and longevity then Ivan would so see it that this happen until he deems it safer for his heir to venture out into the world.

Alfred didn't spout out any complaints to Ivan's surprise. The Russian could see that his husband immediately understood his motives behind rejecting the idea of an open birthday party. Alfred's agreeable attitude was pleasant and Ivan enjoyed the peace at his home.

Screams and tears and teething was not Ivan's forte. Even if Alfred's persona had calmed that did not mean it applied to a young child. Alexei could get so out of hand Ivan had to steal himself away from home. He hated the noise and simply removed himself to a quieter place.

Alexei was created for Alfred—to calm and to come to love. Ivan wasn't certain if he could outright say he "loved" his son. He was of his own flesh and blood, yes, but Ivan had never wanted children. The thought of the boy only came as a last straw, only came because Ivan remembered after hard thought that Alfred liked children. Adoption had been out of the question, more so had the idea of letting Alfred return to funding children organizations. Ivan cared for Alfred and so he gave from himself to create Alexei, and what a perfect present he had been.

Alfred loved that boy to death. Ivan knew that the American probably understood why the child existed in the first place, but he moved away from the usual spite toward Ivan and his ways to coo and fawn over the baby. Ivan wasn't sure if Alfred would ever forget the reason for Alexei's existence, but he could see his care for such internal matters quickly pushed off to the side when he held the boy, when he got on his knees and played with him, when he smiled and made funny noises just to get Alexei to open his mouth while Alfred twirled the spoon around like an airplane.

Alfred loved kids; so Alexei was perfect for him.

Still Ivan remained quiet. He only spoke when Alfred struck up a conversation—if he did. Now he sat contently out in their backyard watching Alfred pushing Alexei on the constructed swings. The babe was two and a half years old now. Time flew.

High pitched squeals and giggles always made Ivan cringe and frown, but Alexei's sounds were different. Ivan smiled the entire time his little boy cried out in glee when his daddy pushed him so high. Unintelligible garble really, but it made Alfred laugh along with him. It was a strange effect on Ivan, something he would figure the reasons for later.

Ivan watched as little Alexei's arms let go of the edges of the seat he was safely saddled in and reached out, his blue eyes looking toward where the Russian sat on a bench just at the edge of the playground.

"Papa!" The squeal sounded almost understandable. Ivan wasn't sure if he should think any more on it, but when Alexei moved his mouth and said it again the Russian realized he was being addressed. "Papa!" Ivan blinked in surprise. He had heard from status updates that Alexei's been spouting words—English words of course—but Ivan had figured it would take a while until the little boy could properly form an understandable sentence.

"Papa?" Alfred had questioned before turning his attention to what his little boy had set his eyes on. He looked at Ivan, the smile on his lips faded somewhat that disheartened Ivan's spirit, but when he turned his eyes back toward Alexei, Alfred nodded. "Yeah, that's papa. Say, 'papa'?"

Alexei threw his arms up and squealed again. "Papa!" He kept his eyes on Ivan and strangely the Russian felt compelled to come up and pat him on the head in congratulations on saying a word properly. Of course the mob boss didn't act on such thoughts and remained seated, observing from afar. He was afraid, yes, afraid to enter into Alfred's happy world and change it back into what it used to be—after all, Alfred had continuously blamed Ivan for disrupting his life and so a distance is what Ivan figured the American needed . . . though, it wasn't what Ivan needed.

Alfred laughed. The sound of it turned Ivan's lips upward. "I think he want's ya, Ivan."

Again, Ivan blinked in surprise. Alfred was looking at him, the smile from his laughter still painting his facial features, the soft tenderness in his eyes that he shows to their son still sparkled in those light blue eyes. It was as if he was purposely looking at Ivan like that and the Russian felt his heart skip a beat. When he addressed him all attention was his to keep and Ivan sat up straight.

Ivan didn't say a word to Alfred's deduction. He simply glanced from his husband toward his squirming child who looked too excited to contain himself. Slowly, Ivan stood. He wasn't sure what was wanted of him but he approached his family.

"Stand here," Alfred bade, pushing Ivan to settle behind the boy's swing. "Push him. I think it's what he wants."

Both parents shared a look at the light-haired boy. He squealed and giggled, rocking the saddle he sat in to urge any parent to push him for his adrenaline rush. Ivan did as wished and pushed the boy. It was easy at first, barely nudging the child forward, but with Alfred's instruction and the toddler's squealing chirps as encouragement Ivan got into a rhythm and pushed his son.

It was a nice moment for Ivan. Not so much because he was bonding with his child, but more so that Alfred was no longer looking at him with hate. True the American's eyes were more directed toward the form of their child, but with that the spite took too long to form in his irises and so for a moment he'd look at Ivan the same way he looked at Alexei—with love.

Ivan understood that he could not go back to the way he and Alfred used to be. Even with a child in their lives they could not turn back the hands of time in their relationship. Ivan wanted Alfred, he was strained from not being able to hold his lithe warm form in his arms, but above all he wanted his husband happy.

Alfred once called Ivan selfish. No, Ivan was sacrificing his uttermost satisfaction to take some small form of happiness in seeing Alfred lighter, to hear him laugh, and see those eyes of his sparkle with youth. It was a tiny measure of happiness for Ivan, but he believed he could live on it.

Standing back and watching was the only luxury Ivan could have, but he forced himself to remain content and to not act on the longing of his heart. Alexei took up all of Alfred's time, but the two of them together brought about a lighter mood in their home which Ivan and his household were glad for.

Though Ivan still insisted on Alfred remaining at their home—whichever they resided at in the year—he did give him the freedom of his presence. The office or parting for business is how Ivan kept himself away from his husband. Alexei kept Alfred busy and so the American didn't seem to even notice his husband's absence.

This reason was why Ivan was profusely surprised when Alfred contacted him one day while he was states away for business. The American was upset and near tears when he informed him of Alexei's rising fever.

Ivan wondered if he had boarded the redeye because he did not like it when his husband was upset, or that he was genuinely concerned for his son's health. He was Alfred's responsibility after all; it was up to the American to care for the little babe, not Ivan. Yet Alfred spoke his concern to his husband because Ivan was the father and because he was scared for the first time since receiving the child.

Alfred had already called in a private doctor, but when he could offer no help Ivan called another. This one provided little help himself and only suggested monitoring the young child to make sure his concerning fever didn't rise any more than it should—it was already at dangerous levels. Alfred wanted to take him to the hospital, but Ivan refused. If things got out of hand Ivan would just send in more doctors, Alexei wasn't ready to be shown off just yet.

"You're a strong boy, Alex," Alfred muttered against the boy's sweaty temple. Alfred kissed him and ran his fingers through his soaking hair—the poor baby was burning up and there was nothing the American could do about it. "You get better, you hear?"

It was weeks after Alexei's third birthday and Alfred was ready to break down. This was one of the reasons why Ivan disliked children—they always made their parents weak. Of course he denied the stabbing coldness seeping out of his heart at the sight of the poor boy.

More so Ivan was moved by how close Alfred pressed to the boy. The American laid himself down next to him on the bed they had moved him too after he'd gotten too big for the cradle. Alfred wrapped his arms around him and held him close to his chest, pressing his lips and nose against the crown of his head.

Alexei's pale cheeks and forehead was red with fever. He wasn't eating or drinking and Alfred was scared to death . . . unknowingly so was Ivan.

"Daddy's here." Ivan turned his eyes from the poor form of his child toward Alfred's saddened and distressed features. "Daddy will be here when you wake up."

Alfred tightened his embrace. A whining moan caught in Alexei's throat. Ivan could see Alfred wanted to cry, but he held back his tears.

In the middle of the night Alexei's fever broke and he breathed better in his slumber. Alfred had been so happy he said a thankful prayer to God above. In fact, he had been in this kneeling position against the bed when Ivan came in and found him passed out. He chuckled at the sight. He knew Alfred had drained himself both emotionally and physically so it was understandable why he was exhausted.

Still, Ivan pressed close. Reaching down he ran his fingers through fine golden strands. Still as soft as ever. Ivan smiled down at his husband before running his fingers down to massage Alfred's scalp. Ivan was proud of him; Alfred's proved himself a devoted parent.

If only Alfred could show such devotion as a husband.

Ivan pushed away frowning thoughts when he started at the feel of a strong grip grasp his wrist. Alfred had reached up and taken hold of Ivan's massaging hand. The American pulled it away from his head and inhaled a waking breath.

"Mm, what time is it?" Alfred droned out. He rubbed his eyes for a moment before realizing he'd lost his glasses. The moment he turned his head around to look for them he noticed Ivan as well as understood that he was the one whose wrist he caught touching him.

Ivan could clearly see all of the stress and weariness in the younger. He smiled endearingly, leaning down and gently pulling his wrist out of Alfred's grip. His freed hand then turned to press knuckles against Alfred's forehead, wiping bangs out of his heavy eyes.

"Come, Alexei needs his rest, and it will do you nor him any good if you get sick as well." Ivan didn't bother telling Alfred the time, it was too late to even keep track. But Alfred did not protest when Ivan lead him out of the room with one last concerning glance back at Alexei's sleeping form.

Ivan wanted Alfred to rest and so offered him a room farther away from Alexei's so just to get away from the fevered atmosphere—Ivan would not stand for both his spouse and child ill. He felt his room to be ideal, after all he could just lay away in another spare bedroom, but even Ivan had surprised himself when his body took steps on its own and soon found itself within their old room—the one where he and Alfred had once shared as spouses that slept in the same bed.

Ivan felt somewhat embarrassed over this sudden surprise in destination. He even offered Alfred an apologetic smile. When he turned to open the door and leave he noticed Alfred's strange behavior out of the corner of his eye. Those shoulders were slumped giving way to the American's weary form, but Alfred was wide awake now, his eyes shined in the darkness of the room, staring at the space he used to occupy in the first few years of their marriage.

Again Ivan took on the role of observer, well, that is until the room entranced the Russian like it had his American husband. Amethyst eyes took in objects, and places where memories were made and love was shared—supposedly. Ivan smiled softly at the memories, his gaze falling back to Alfred's unmoving form. He wondered what he was thinking, and how he felt about this old room of theirs.

Ivan wanted to live in this room again, with Alfred in his arms. But he wanted Alfred to freely fall into his embrace. He wanted Alfred to just love him back.

An ache arose inside Ivan's chest of unknown origin to him. He rubbed at his chest before he felt a gravitational pull press him closer to Alfred. Now, he was standing right behind him. Neither moved.

When Alfred's scent caught in Ivan's nostrils he closed his eyes to take him in. In that moment he leant his head down, first to only inhale the American's warm pleasant summer smell. The kiss to the side of the neck might have been accidental hadn't another one followed after that.

The kisses were pressed firmly and lingered longer than necessary, but Ivan could not stop. One of his hands came up to Alfred's shoulder while the other reached up to caress that tanned neck as his mouth tasted of his husband again. Alfred still did not move and so Ivan pressed closer, his chest rubbing against Alfred's back, taking in the warmth of him.

Ivan had wanted Alfred to lean his head to the side and offer more of his neck to him, but it was only his own hands reaching up and bending the American's neck that way. Still . . . Alfred did not protest. Both sets of eyes fluttered closed and the soft pants passing Alfred's lips eventually caught in Ivan's ears.

Ivan's eyes opened at the near quiet sound. Pupils dilated to give him better sight in the darkness of the unused room. Pulling his mouth away, Ivan leaned back to twist Alfred around. Wide blue eyes stared up into his own, those soft lips were still parted. Alfred made no motion to pull away, nor press closer.

Ivan leaned closer to test the waters. His forehead brushed against Alfred's, so close that he could feel the American's eyelashes flutter against his cheek. Breathing hot air on those parted lips made Alfred react in a pleasing way. There was a small shutter felt and those parted lips trembled, opening ever so subtly more.

Ivan held his breath for a moment, leaning his head down further and again kissing Alfred's neck. The vertebrae moved to the side so easily that Ivan moved downward faster, wanting to kiss that jutting collarbone. His fingers assisted his plight, unbuttoning buttons of the dark shirt Alfred was adorned in. Those hands should have halted when Ivan's lips attached to suck against the bone and skin but they continued to split the American's shirt in half and then reach up, pulling the flaps apart and down shoulders to bare a torso.

Even Ivan's lips had not resisted what was offered. Down they traveled, kissing warm skin and protruding muscle. When a bare arm wrapped around his head Ivan looked up to see Alfred barren of any shirt, the article of clothing having fluttered down to their feet already. Their eyes met and Ivan saw no resistance so he did not hold himself back.

The Russian leaned up quickly, pressing mouths together for the first time in so long. Ivan moaned and grasped both sides of Alfred's face when he felt the feel of pressing lips in return. He kissed him hard, hard enough to press open his mouth and shove his tongue inside. It was proper to go slow right now but Ivan had been denied his spouse for so long; he was deprived.

For a small moment Ivan thought he might be dreaming—it wouldn't be the first. But when he felt Alfred's unsure hands reach up to grasp his coat Ivan knew it was real. Ivan pulled his lips away for breath and to suck against Alfred's neck again. He wanted to mark him, to kiss every inch of his skin all over again.

Ivan hated the feel of his clothing preventing him from really feeling his husband's bare skin, but he held off on disrobing himself to touch Alfred again. He let his hands wander down his back, fingers tracing every trembling muscle before sliding to his front, brushing nipple and naval. When Ivan kissed Alfred again he groaned when the younger moaned into his mouth at the feel of the Russian's thumbs rubbing against his nipples to raise them pert.

Tense, Alfred was very tense. Ivan made to massage his strain away, but the moment his hands moved lower the younger's joints would lock up again and Ivan would have to start all over. The Russian didn't want this to end—didn't want Alfred to suddenly pull away and leave him—so he took it slow and both took pleasure from this.

Alfred made no move to leave nor did he make a move to interact. No, he remained still, letting Ivan have his way with him but also quietly guiding those hands by pressing closer to them to urge them to places that needed to be touched. When Ivan hooked his fingers into Alfred's belt those bright blue eyes looked up at him. Their gazes held only until Ivan beheld those gem-like eyes darken into sapphires and glance down to watch him unclasp the buckle.

Ivan tried to calm himself. He didn't want to be hasty, not in this delicate moment. But the belt buckle was unclasp before Ivan had even remembered moving his hands to it. Along with that came the zipper of Alfred's pants. Ivan paused after that, keeping his hands on the younger's hips and pulling him closer.

Ivan wanted to continue, to strip his husband, but the fear of him leaving shot up in that moment and so he just held him in his arms, he held him against himself so securely that Alfred wouldn't be able to pull away even if he tried. Ivan was afraid to feel it, to feel his husband tug him away, to push at him and to take the warmth of his body and leave him cold like so many nights.

Ivan held Alfred for a long time. The American didn't move, he didn't utter a word, and when Ivan realized this he pulled back a little and looked at him. Gazes met and a silent conversation was shared.

Ivan's hands did not wait for his mind. They moved, thumbs hooking into edges and sliding fabric down. Now they skimmed over boxer concealed hips, some fingers even gliding up the leg of the boxer to feel Alfred's warm thigh.

Ivan took in the way Alfred sucked in a breath at the feel of his hands touching him. He wanted to see Alfred shivering, his eyes clenched shut in pleasure and lips parted to cry out his name. Ivan wanted this so very much right now.

Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the room or the memories that were attached to it, but two estranged spouses were pressing close to the other, sharing kisses once thought cold and caresses once thought forbidden. Ivan stepped on the pants bunched around Alfred's ankles to get him out of them while he pressed forward, making the American stumble backwards. Ivan wrapped his arms around him to keep him from falling back onto the floor and as soon as Alfred was balanced he looked back up, eyes meeting Ivan's.

Those unsure hands of his finally moved. Ivan could feel them rise up and down his clothed back before they rested against his shoulder blades for support. Alfred didn't make any other moves than that. Ivan did not mind, just as long as he wasn't resisting him.

Leaning down Ivan kissed his husband once more. This kiss let his lips travel, down Alfred's chin and then to litter the honey blonde's neck with marks. Ivan could hear the sighs leaving Alfred's mouth and it aroused him even more.

Slowly Ivan pushed until Alfred's legs bumped against their bed. Ivan released the younger and let him fall. The American's arms flung out behind him to keep him seated as upright as possible but after the initial bounce from the mattress Ivan's eyes took him in. He wasn't sure if Alfred purposely did it but he had landed on the bed with his legs spread wider than common and those darkening blue eyes enticed Ivan closer.

Ivan would not let Alfred escape from him. He reached out, his hands gripping the American's knees to spread them further while he settled in-between his thighs and came down to nip at his neck and shoulders. The sighs became more frequent and when Ivan felt Alfred buck his hips against him he sighed out in relief. Ivan pulled away and looked at Alfred, he wished he could understand him better, wished he could read his mind—they'd grown too far apart. But, none of that mattered at the moment because Ivan was seeking release and he was seeking his husband.

Reaching up he began unwinding his scarf and then he took off his jacket—he'd yet to change from his attire he had been wearing when he had gotten off the plane. Untucking his dress shirt and then unbuckling and unzipping his pants was all he could take before his body had to press close to Alfred once more, inhaling his scent and taking his skin into his mouth. Ivan could feel how hard he was, painfully so. He needed to become one with his husband right now.

A short whining moan slipped past Alfred's teeth when Ivan rolled his hips into him. The moment their groins connected Alfred's eyes fluttered closed and his head turned. Ivan tilted his own head back, a smile on his lips and a pleased sigh escaping his mouth. He continued grinding into Alfred, reaching down just to rub his spread thighs.

Alfred's lips sealed when a moan rumbled up his throat. Ivan's right hand released his thigh and reached upward to rub against Alfred's clothed groin. He was hardening.

Ivan pulled his hands away and simply ground into his husband. While doing so he reached up and tugged off his dress shirt, forgetting to unbutton—so a few buttons popped, big deal, Ivan had more important matters at hand. Once the shirt was off and over his head Ivan caught sight of Alfred's opened eyes. He was staring at Ivan's ink-engraved skin, no doubt stirring up old memories.

Ivan remained quiet and still under Alfred's observing gaze, especially when he felt those warm hands of the American's move. Firstly they traveled down his back then slipped down over his ribcage. Ivan only spied them when they came sliding down his arms, tanned fingers tracing over inked images installed into the Russian's pale skin years ago.

Resisting the urge to shiver if only to show some control, Ivan contently watched Alfred trace his tattoos. He was glad he was touching him in return—though, not as intimately, at least he was still touching him. When those hands seemed to still, resting against Ivan's flexors, the Russian moved. He leaned closer, pressing his American husband's form deeper into the sheets. His own hands rubbed up and down Alfred's arms before his fingers wrapped around wrists and drug them up to rest near that golden head.

No matter how many years they had been married, no matter how much older Alfred got, no matter if the strains in their relationship had entitled estrangement, the American was still the beauty Ivan had first beheld back at that little Italian restaurant. Beautiful. Alfred will always be so breathtakingly beautiful to Ivan.

In that moment Ivan had to lean down and kiss him again. It was soft and tender and full of all of the love Ivan could ever hope to have for him. When he pulled away from those warm lips Ivan was saddened to see those blue eyes dart away, Alfred had even turned his head in simple submission.

Ignoring the refrained attention, Ivan continued. He leaned down and kissed Alfred's neck, trailing kisses down his torso before taking a nipple into his mouth. Ivan could feel Alfred's body arch under him, he could even feel those hands of the American's, clenching into fists. Ivan took his time to suck on the bud before moving onto the other, when his wet mouth pressed around the other dusty nipple Alfred's hips bucked into him. He moaned around the soft patch of skin from the reaction and immediately his hands let go of Alfred's wrists to slide down to the younger's hips, keeping them firmly pressed against the bed.

Now that Alfred's hands were free they moved. Instead of gripping at the sheets underneath them Ivan felt them touch him, the tips of warm fingers tingled the back of his neck before pressing down firmer where palms splayed against the nape of his neck, just a little away from tangling digits into his hair. Again, Ivan said nothing about the lack of interactive touch. He simply continued getting to know his husband's body all over again.

It had been about seven years since Ivan had done anything intimate with his husband. Their last escapade had been so unarousing that Ivan took his hands away and left Alfred alone like he wanted to. The pent up sexual frustration was overburdening, but now the possibility for the hope of release was arising in the air around. This, however, did not waver any control in the Russian, he kept his pace steady and sure—exploring first and pleasuring secondly.

Alfred aged well. Not a single passing year tarnished his body. The excitement of growing old with him by his side had returned after the remembrance of strained relations passed out of Ivan's mind.

In Alfred's anger with Ivan he took to the gym more than previous. The American's frame was thicker, laden with more defined muscle that Ivan had longed to run his hands and tongue over. The toned shapes seemed to enjoy Ivan's attention with how the muscles trembled and twitched under his ministrations.

The moans behind Alfred's teeth were becoming too loud to conceal through sealed lips. He seemed to particularly enjoy the feel of Ivan's large hands rubbing inside his thighs, just far enough away from a straining erect member. The buck of hips alerted his Russian husband to his predicament and when rubbing hands finally touched the tender organ Alfred whined out a sigh, blinking away tears with tightly closed eyelids.

Ivan continued to rub him until those muffled moans escaped. Just one, Ivan wanted to hear just one opened mouthed moan. He did, and when that pitch tickled his eardrums the Russian shivered, reaching his hand inside the boxers to pull out Alfred's throbbing cock. Ivan smiled in delight at its state, more so at the precum leaking out at the tip.

Perhaps Alfred was just as sexually frustrated as Ivan.

Ivan's thumb expertly rubbed the slit, smearing the juices all over the head. The circular motion swayed Alfred's hips in the same movement, and another open-mouthed moan slipped out of the American's lips. Like before, the sound was silently rewarded. Ivan squeezed the member in his hand and gave it a firm pump. A moan rumbled in his throat at the sight of Alfred's hips leaving the bed.

So, Ivan's other hand dipped down between Alfred's thighs as well, cupping his clothed testicles and squeezing before fondling both rounds. Alfred began thrusting into Ivan's hand more, encouraging the Russian to keep squeezing him. More was Ivan encouraged by the voluntary spread of Alfred's legs than anything else. Slowly he watched them part, the knees weighing down the rest of the legs to spread so invitingly.

Ivan had to lean back on his legs to view Alfred properly. His eyes darkened more with want . . . the want to see him fully naked and bare.

When Ivan tugged down Alfred's boxers it wasn't polite or gentle. He yanked the last article of clothing off of his husband quite forcibly. Alfred didn't make any mention of the rougher handle, but his legs did bend, knees arching up to slightly close his thighs than previously spread. Again, Ivan was less than gentle. He took his hands and spread those thighs apart to look at the American's most intimate places. After all, it had been years since he's seen him so uncovered and those amethyst eyes were hungry for flesh.

Ivan leaned down, his nose brushing against the inside of Alfred's spread thigh. He inhaled his scent and frowned. He remembered a time when the American was so infused with his own scent one couldn't tell the difference in fragrance. Ivan wanted that again; he wanted Alfred draped head to toe in his scent, he wanted him longing for his touch, he wanted to taste him again.

Open mouthed kisses were placed against the warm tender flesh presented before Ivan. He could feel the muscles quivering against his lips as they traced their way deeper. When his warm breath skimmed over the tender flesh of Alfred's groin the phallus twitched. Ivan heard Alfred gulp in another moan and he lost it.

Taking a hold of the cock firmly in his hand Ivan shoved half of it into his mouth. Immediately Alfred's hips bucked into him and the sound that came out of the American almost made Ivan cum.

"Oooh!" Alfred had already laid his head on its side, but when Ivan took him into his mouth he tossed it back and forth, his lips parted in the shape of an "O" and eyes rolling behind closed eyelids.

The hands tangling their fingers into Ivan's hair did not pull or push. They simply remained, holding onto Ivan while he worked the younger in his mouth. The Russian deemed the movement rewardable and so took in more of Alfred's cock. The pleasured sounds shivered throughout Ivan's entire being. The arousal took hold of him and he began to grind his hips into the mattress, he ached with need so much.

Ivan was mostly certain that he could take Alfred right then. That the American would not protest should he stretch him and penetrate him in moments. But Ivan refrained. He wanted to get to know Alfred's body all over again, and he wanted the taste of him to linger in his mouth for weeks to come—just in case this would be the last time Alfred would give himself to him.

So Ivan swallowed Alfred whole, sucking with a mission to get him to cum. He particularly wrapped his lips around the base of the younger's cock, pulling at the skin with sheer pressure when he bobbed his head up, and when he came down he would, in by inch, suck him in again in an agonizingly slow pace. Those arousing sounds escaping from Alfred grew that way, and Ivan allowed enough weight off of the American's hips to encourage them to roll in movement with his lips.

One buck when Alfred's hips left the bed Ivan maneuvered his hands underneath him, now gripping him firmly on the ass, pushing him more into his mouth. The American's legs spread wider and almost all his grinding movements stopped with Ivan taking lead and sucking vigorously.

Ivan hummed when he felt the organ in his mouth swell. The fingers laced in his hair began to pull, as if to force Ivan away, but he ignored their weak tugs and continued until Alfred came undone in his mouth. He swallowed every ounce of his spent husband and continued bobbing his head until the shaft was flaccid in his mouth.

Loosening his jaw, Ivan let the limp penis fall out of his mouth. The image below him enticed a seductive growl to rumble in his throat. There was Alfred, all spread and laid out before him, his arms now beside his head as the strength in them failed to hold onto to his hair. He had his eyes open, looking up at him while trying to catch his breath as quietly as possible. But that open mouth seduced Ivan too much, he had to lean in and capture those lips.

The moans echoing into Ivan's mouth from Alfred might have been from protest to let him breathe but Ivan ignored it all. He pressed closer, deepened the kiss all the while his hands pulled the rest of his clothing off of himself. He sighed through his nostrils when he finally laid above his husband just as bare as he. It felt good to grind his arousal against Alfred's pelvis, encouraging him to harden.

The moment Ivan felt Alfred erecting again he pulled his lips away. He could hear a loud gasp of air choke itself into Alfred's lungs, but his attention was turned away from his red-faced sunflower. Instead he took hold of his own arousal and guided it against Alfred's, rubbing until his hand wrapped around both cocks.

"Oh!" Alfred arched his chest into Ivan which made the older hum in approval and rub their torsos closer. While one hand of Ivan's worked on their cocks the other rubbed against Alfred's thigh, encouraging it to raise and press close against his hip.

The ministrations seemed to go on like this at a leisurely pace, enough to tease and harden the American. Ivan often wondered how he hadn't reached his own orgasm, but he remembered his internal promise to himself: he would not cum unless he was inside his husband, and now just wasn't the time. But, it was time to continue with the preparation for what was to come.

Ivan was surprised the bottle of lubricant was still in the small lampstand where his side of the bed used to be. He knew the thing was old due to its lack of use but that didn't mean it didn't work as it should. Ivan's fingers slipped inside Alfred's passage just fine thanks to the substance. He moaned when his fingers meant resistance, warm and tight.

Ivan shivered at the feel and pressed his two fingers in deeper until his knuckles rubbed against that outer ring of muscle. His own cock twitched just at the thoughts of embedding itself inside those tightened walls. But Ivan refrained from doing such a thing too soon. No, he didn't want Alfred suddenly pulling away.

He could see the discomfort in the American and so Ivan's fingers rubbing Alfred's thigh turned toward his cock and squeezed. When Alfred bucked Ivan began rubbing his fingers, moving them to casually open him up. He knew he found that enjoyable prostrate when the blond began pressing down on those fingers, clenching his anal muscles to keep them pressing at a certain angle.

While Ivan would love to tease his husband and finger fuck him until he came fifty times his own throbbing cock was called to his attention and if he wasn't settled inside the tight heat of his husband soon then he'd have a serious issue. So he began to scissor his fingers, pulling apart tight muscle that had grown taut over years of unuse. Ivan moaned when Alfred's hips began moving again and in that motion Ivan added another finger. He pressed in deep and rubbed just the way he knew his husband would enjoy. And he did.

Amethyst eyes were transfixed by the way Alfred's abdominal muscles quivered by those fingers working inside the younger. Whenever Ivan pressed in deeper, pressed against that bundle of nerves, Ivan would see Alfred's abdominal muscles harden, rippling in time as his internal muscles were pulled apart.

The Russian bucked his hips closer when he pushed in a fourth finger, grinding his hips in time with the motions of his hand. He went at this for a few minutes before he could take no more. His free hand held Alfred off—he could already feel him close—while his other hand pulled its digits away and blindly sought out the bottle of oil. He spilt the contents in his attempt to handle it with one hand, but he had enough slickness on his hand to due.

When Ivan lathered his cock he moaned. He tried not to pump himself too much because he worried in overstimulated himself. He could already feel his own girth in his hand, thick and throbbing and hot. Even the light touches Ivan had to press against himself for lubrication made him twitch.

One last time Ivan pressed his fingers inside Alfred's stretched opening just to press more lubrication inside. After that task was done Ivan reluctantly let go of Alfred's penis and held onto his thigh, pressing it against the mattress to give him better access. His other hand guided his cock to his husband's entrance, holding onto the shaft while he pressed inside.

Ivan could feel the muscles inside tighten when he pressed in just further then where his fingers could reach. He was considerate; he would pause when he felt tension and move when it eased enough to continue. He never took his eyes off of Alfred, watching closely for any signs of discomfort. There were plenty splayed across his face but Alfred bit his lip and took everything silently.

With one final thrust Ivan was seated wholly inside his husband, and with the completion of the bond Alfred came. His head fell back against the sheets underneath him, his teeth bared and eyes closed tightly while his second orgasm rocked over him. Ivan moaned at feeling the younger underneath him grind his hips into him to ride out the erupting pleasure the best he could. The roll helped Ivan's cock slip further than before so Ivan remained perfectly still while Alfred came down from his high.

The limpness is not what Ivan wanted however. He would have to work up the American again. So he moved, it was slow at first, purposely rubbing against those nerves inside Alfred to send tingles up and down his spine.

After a few stimulating thrusts Ivan leaned closer. He pressed his weight down on Alfred, chest and pelvises rubbing so close. Ivan's arms reached out and wrapped around Alfred, holding him close and pulling him more into his chest. Ivan snapped his hips forward quicker and buried himself deeper to make Alfred arch and he did so beautifully.

A moan came out of Alfred's mouth, the ones that followed were brought on by Ivan's lips as he tilted his head and pressed open-mouthed kisses against his hickey-covered neck. Ivan sought to mark every inch of him. His teeth breaking into skin didn't even seem to deter the American from rolling his hips into his own. Ivan could feel Alfred's cock, already standing erect and hot rubbing against his stomach.

When Ivan pulled his mouth away from a well discolored neck he rose his head and looked down at Alfred. Those blue eyes struggled to stay open as Ivan thrust into him to give him pleasure that came from inside and made his younger body catch aflame. Kiss swollen lips hung open to act out silent moans, and the way his jaw perked up and down let Ivan know just how much pleasure Alfred was experiencing. Yes, it had been years since they've made love . . . they both needed this.

Pressing his hands on both sides of Alfred's face Ivan held him still, wanting him to look at him. Those blue eyes shined with tears, a few leaked out just as Alfred closed his eyes and took in the pleasure overwhelming his body. Ivan stayed close, his forehead pressing against Alfred's while he hardened his thrusts.

He could hear moans rumbling in Alfred's throat the deeper he pressed. Ivan wanted to hear them, or at least taste them. He leaned his head down and rubbed his lips against Alfred's. They did not kiss, simply inhaled the other's breaths for a moment or two.

When the hot breaths became too much Ivan pressed down into a kiss, prying those lips open and pressing his tongue inside. He could feel Alfred opening his jaw more to accommodate him into his mouth. The feel of Alfred's own hot tongue felt nice, even more so when that tongue rubbed against his own.

Nothing had changed; Alfred could still make Ivan's heart swoon, could still make his mind think of only him, could still make his body shiver in want to hold him, could still make him so pleasurably hard. No one else, Ivan had met no other individual that could make him feel like this, could make him fall to pieces, this is why he had to have the American. He would not stand for anyone else taking him. Couldn't stand it at all.

Despite the fingers now wrapped into his hair, Alfred managed to pull his head back to gasp in needed breaths of air. He only managed to take in a few before Ivan's lips were on his again, kissing away all of the breath he had managed to take in. When he pulled away a second time he let out high pitched moans. Ivan was quickening his thrusts, spreading Alfred more and the younger grunted with each descent inside.

"Ah, ah, AH!" Alfred simply could not open his eyes anymore, but when his jaw loosened and his mouth opened—oh the heavenly sounds.

Ivan shivered, his mind in a buzz so fogged that his eyes rolled and he met his end. He rocked back and forth in his orgasm, milking every last drop of himself and pressing it deep inside Alfred—Ivan wanted him feeling him for days after this. When the waves of immense pleasure finally settled Ivan had time to feel the way Alfred's walls clenched around him in his final moment. Being filled by Ivan's cum was enough to push Alfred over the edge and so the younger bucked his hips and came all over their chests, a warm sticky mess.

Ivan remained still while Alfred rutted against him to ride out his orgasm and did the Russian enjoy it. With Alfred rubbing against him and pushing his ass down on Ivan's still embedded cock it certainly stimulated another rise out of Ivan and he moaned when he experimentally moved his hips in the way of a thrust.

Alfred let out a groan at the action and opened his eyes. He looked up at Ivan, blinking away the tears brought on by a fully satisfied finish. When Ivan met his gaze he thrust inside once more to make sure his husband understood that he was throbbing again and in need of satisfaction. Alfred's lips parted in such a way that a moan tumbled out of Ivan's throat and his eyes darkened. He thrust in a third time, pressing deeper and reaching down to grip Alfred's thigh against his hip. He wanted another round and he was making sure Alfred understood completely that he had no choice in the matter.

The American could have pulled away, or at least could have tried. He wouldn't have escaped, no, Ivan started up again, rubbing just the right way to stimulate his husband. The deeper he pressed the more cum squeezed out around his cock making Alfred groan at the feel of it dripping down his thighs and ass. Ivan loved it, it made for easier lubricant and the scent that arose with it smelled of him.

The sound of the bed creaking tickled Ivan's ears almost as much as Alfred's moans. He watched as Alfred reached out and gripped the sheets of the bed for support as the Russian plowed into him again. His pace was quicker this time, his thrusts harder, and now Alfred could hold his voice no longer. His head tossed to the side and out came groans and moans of the pleasure only Ivan could give to him.

The cum sloshing inside of Alfred coated Ivan's dick white. The Russian enjoyed its warmth, even more so when he pressed the substance deeper with his penetration. He could tell it made Alfred's stomach flip. Alfred would always press a hand down onto his stomach when he felt the spilt seed inside of him stretch him almost more so than Ivan's cock.

But those eyes. Those dark blue eyes staring up at Ivan while he took a hold of the American's knees and held them against his ribs made the Russian harden, forced his pace to quicken, and tauntingly brought him to a crumbling mess. Oh, what Alfred could do to him no matter if he thought it or not.

When Alfred's head got too close to the headboard Ivan would pay mind and pull his body back down the bed, closer to him. He had slammed into him so hard that the American's body thrust upward, the entire frame shuttering and twisting just as he cried out in bliss. When Ivan came again he found himself still so hard.

It had been years, so long, too long without Alfred to warm his bed, to warm him, and he wanted him, all of him that night. The American made no motion to move when Ivan reached forward and grabbed his hair tightly, pulling his neck back and leaning down to bite deep. When he cried out in pain the Russian hardened and so did his thrusts.

Their old room was filled with gasps, groans, moans, the creaking of the bed, skin slapping against sweat-soaked skin, and sloppy kisses planting on lips and other various body parts. Both Ivan and Alfred's bodies shined with sweat making any grip harder and harder the more they continued. And Ivan continued well into the night seeking to appease his throbbing cock that was hungry for tight release.

The count of how many times their bodies connected was lost to the heat and haze of their lovemaking. The last time before holding any secure grip on the other was deemed impossible Alfred had been rolled onto his stomach with his legs spread and Ivan pressing his chest against his back. His whimpers could be heard even under Ivan's loud grunts and groans while he held onto Alfred's hips and pulled them back onto his pelvis since Alfred's exhaustion had caught him and made his body slack.

No more, Alfred couldn't harden anymore and had no other choice but to wait for Ivan to spend himself. It was becoming extremely uncomfortable for the American though. His ass burned as well as his insides from the insistent stretch. The cum spilt inside him inflated him, but Ivan was intent on filling him until he burst.

Alfred let out another whine when Ivan finally came undone again. It wasn't as much as before and he barely felt a change at all. His voice was ragged as was Ivan's. Neither could speak, just simply breathe.

Finally Ivan pulled out. Alfred grunted out a choke when he felt the Russian leave him. His head fell onto the mattress and bunched up sheets underneath him when the built up cum began to ooze out of him. He felt gapping, he felt exhausted, but he felt good.

He simply laid there, laid there with Ivan's weight pressed on top of him. He took in better breaths of air when the Russian leaned up on shaking arms and moved back. With eyes closed Alfred just wanted to drift off into slumber, but he couldn't. He was still too wide awake, as was his body.

"Mmm," Alfred groaned, his lids squeezing tight when he felt Ivan's fingers rub against his thoroughly used asshole. He tensed up, but the puckered hole remained gapping, stretched to its limit. He managed to open his eyes and tilt his head just enough to look down at Ivan and watch as he observed him. He could see his weariness as well, but those violet eyes would not look away, not when Ivan's fingers continued to rub against him.

Alfred lightly flinched when Ivan pressed the tips of two fingers inside, just enough to rub around the inner part of the protruding ring of muscle. Ivan didn't press his fingers in deeper, he simply skimmed them around Alfred's red irritated opening. Alfred had to moan in discomfort just to get him to stop.

When Ivan looked at him the moment he moaned the Russian was surprised the younger was leaning up on his elbows and looking back down at him. Neither said anything, Alfred simply informed Ivan through silent looks that he had had enough and that he was tired and sore. Ivan seemed to understand. He leaned over Alfred again, his hips ground down against Alfred's ass a few times before the larger man lowered himself and laid on top of the American again.

With guiding fingers now on Alfred's chin the American was finding his head turning more and his lips pressed against another mouth. The kiss was soft but deep and when Ivan's lips left Alfred let out a content sigh. His eyes ended up closing when Ivan began kissing his neck and then his shoulders, and then down his spine.

Ivan took his time when kissing down Alfred's back. The American thought him to just trail down the couture of his spine when he felt Ivan's lips sway from their journey and lean over to bite and suck his ribs. Alfred shivered at that and looked back over his shoulder to watch his husband.

Ivan was a _very_ good lover. Alfred knew the man was a complete bastard a majority of the time, but when they were alone, tangled in the sheets, he was someone else entirely.

Alfred moaned and then inwardly groaned at the feel of himself harden against the mattress. He was spent, his last orgasm was forever ago. He doubted he had anything left anymore and yet there he was, hardening just by watching the affection Ivan was displaying to his body.

So, to stop his upcoming erection Alfred slammed his face into the covers and willed away the sights he'd just witnessed. But right away his head shot up, eyes wide, and mouth agape to let out a loud moan.

"AH!" Alfred gasped for air when he felt his penis harden to full mast—dammit! When he turned to look over his shoulder he found his Russian lover between his legs, his hands gripping his ass cheeks to part so that that devilish tongue could snake its way inside of him.

The American hadn't been expecting a rim job. He was more than sore down there and yet Ivan's wet hot tongue felt amazing. He could even feel his anal muscles pulsing, slowly clenching on that wet appendage lapping at his insides, at the cum still leaking out.

Alfred could take no more of the sight and so turned away, waiting for Ivan to be finished with him—if he even was finished. But the sounds aroused the American, especially when he heard Ivan begin slurping at all of the substance leaking out of him.

"Oooh!" Alfred moaned, his head leaning back down against the mattress. His hips began to roll into Ivan's mouth. He jumped when he felt Ivan pull his tongue away and then began to nip at the stretched ring of muscle. When the tongue entered again Alfred found himself rolling his hips again, pressing down more.

He couldn't take it anymore. His hand slipped between himself and grabbed a hold of his dick, pumping the organ to try to manage any orgasm out of it. He winced when Ivan pressed in two fingers next to his tongue, the pain was dull enough to get Alfred off and he came what he suspected was the last of himself onto the sheets. Wasn't a half-bad orgasm.

He sighed when he felt Ivan pull away. He turned his head to look at the Russian only to reveal how weary and weak he was. Alfred knew Ivan could see it in his eyes that he was completely exhausted and to his delight the Russian understood.

Alfred watched Ivan the entire time. When the older sat up on the side of the bed he noticed his tight grip on the edge. Alfred smirked to himself . . . Ivan was sore too.

Of course Ivan could move better than Alfred who opted to remain where he was, unmoving for fear of seriously hurting himself. He could already feel the throb start up in his ass and travel all the way up his spine only for the pain to shoot back down to his aching thighs where the joints groaned in protest to any movement, especially after being spread for so long. Alfred didn't know why he consented to this long awaited pent up sexual tension relief. He wanted to regret it, but even he found himself sickly smiling at the feel of the way his body ached from being so pleasurably used—even the feel of Ivan's cum leaking out of his filled insides wasn't as unpleasant anymore, he was still uncomfortable, yes, but he was slowly not minding it now.

Alfred had seized up however when strong arms wrapped around him. When he whipped his head around he realized Ivan was just trying to pick him up. The American really didn't want to be moved, but he nodded his consent and hooked his arm around Ivan's neck to be carried off to the bathroom.

Ivan had never done this for him before. After sex it was vice grip and then sleep—or at least that's the way it used to be. Alfred had expected that, not the shower Ivan had started for him.

The warm water felt nice on his aching joints and limbs. Alfred closed his eyes just to take it all in almost entirely forgetting Ivan had joined him in the shower until he felt his hands on him. Alfred turned his head to look at him, giving him a wary look to mind where his hands touched.

Ivan did, just lathering his hands with soap and wiping his husband's body down. It was very nice of Ivan to do this and Alfred hoped the Russian didn't expect the same treatment in return. Leaning his back against a sturdy form like Ivan's helped relax the younger even more. With Ivan's hands automatically cleansing him and the shower's warm waters hitting his neck and chest and downwards it was all just . . . heaven.

Alfred did shift uncomfortably when he felt Ivan rub between his legs, especially when those inked fingers of his traced around his wide asshole again. Alfred knew he was still leaking spilt juices and he knew the quicker way to get them out properly was to dig in and wipe out. Ivan was offering, just not verbally.

With a groan Alfred turned his head to lay against Ivan's broad shoulder. He nodded his approval and Ivan responded with a small kiss to the top of his head just as soon as his fingers entered him. Alfred winced after the first initial penetration but managed to handle the throb.

Ivan moved his fingers inside him quickly to brush out the major clumps of semen. The brush against Alfred's prostrate was probably accidental . . . as well as the second brush . . . and the third . . . and the fourth. And, like the bastard he was, Ivan was just going to remove those rubbing fingers as if he didn't know what they had done. Not on Alfred's watch.

The American thoroughly surprised his Russian husband when he caught his wrist just as soon as he made to pull his cleansing fingers out. Alfred didn't hold him still either, no, he pushed those fingers back inside of him and searched for that spot they had so innocently brushed against earlier. When he found it Alfred moaned and then began using Ivan's hand as a means to get off.

In and out he pressed those two fingers. His ass was already gapping as is and so Alfred whined for more fingers though he wouldn't verbally demand it at all. Ivan seemed taken aback by the action and unsure of what to think of it. He didn't move much and simply let Alfred have his way with his hand and fingers.

It wasn't until the Russian spied over Alfred's shoulder that he noticed the American's dick coming to life at the stimulation he was putting upon himself. The muffled moans from the younger filled the shower and bathroom and Ivan might have let the boy alone hadn't the sight of him using his hand and fingers for his own pleasure aroused him back to life.

Ivan pressed close to Alfred again. He pulled his fingers out of his stretched entrance and wrist away from Alfred's holding grasp. Alfred's wet hair whipped around when he turned his neck to glare up at Ivan behind him. More so was the American frustrated that Ivan now had a hold of his own hand, refusing to let go despite Alfred's struggles.

Ivan simply leaned his neck over Alfred's shoulder, his face offering the American a sweet rub before his eyes glanced down to take in Alfred's state of arousal. His own gaze enticed the younger to look down and when Alfred did his lips parted at the sight of Ivan's own arousal poking between his legs and rubbing against his scrotum. This made Alfred weak at the knees and the heat from the water did not help his body temperature one bit.

Ivan was delighted to see Alfred's other hand slam against the glass of the shower door to hold his form up and steady. The panting gasps hardened the Russian more and enticed him to rub against the underside of Alfred's cock all the more. When Ivan dipped his free hand down he traced them against the blonde's spine and then between his firm ass cheeks down toward his contracting entrance.

He used the tips of his fingers to circle the stretched muscle before dipping inside slightly. The shudder that shook Alfred's body shook out a moan from his mouth that sounded divine in their echoing bathroom. Ivan fell in love with the sound and decided to hear more by pressing three fingers inside as deep as they could go, and, while Ivan opted to remain at knuckles out, he knew he could press in much farther than that. The Russian shivered at feeling how wide he had stretched what was his.

Everything that was and is Alfred F. Braginsky was property of Ivan Braginsky, just as much as he was property of Alfred. Ivan smirked at the sounds his husband made for him. And, by the looks of it . . . Alfred was wanting what was his.

Well, Ivan would gladly _give it to him_.

Alfred sighed sadly when those fingers left him only for Ivan's hand to hook under his left knee and raise it to hold in his arm. The American looked up at Ivan when suddenly he felt something press into him. He let out a groan, his head falling back the more of the girth that slid into him. When Alfred looked down he shuddered at watching Ivan's cock slip into him, pressing in until all that was left visible was the ball sack.

Alfred opened his mouth to either moan or scream. The pain and pleasure just clashed so much inside him that he couldn't utter a word. He could only lean his head back against Ivan's shoulder and feel everything. Ivan was slower with him this time, both too sore for their own good yet both seemed equally enthused about this round of shower sex.

The throb from his stretched ass was forgotten when Ivan's thick cock rubbed against the place Alfred wanted it to. He moaned every time Ivan thrust back in. Even more was he fascinated in leaning his head down and watching the shaft disappear inside him only to pull out with leftover cum smeared all over it, soon pushing back inside again.

Alfred felt his only remaining leg on the floor tremble and he nearly slipped when Ivan kicked his ankle to spread him further. When Ivan let go of his wrist Alfred pressed his hand against the tiles of the shower wall, successfully holding himself up as Ivan's freed hand gripped his hip to push him down onto him and give him a better fucking.

They were both groaning. Both knew the other was sore from their previous heist, but they continued to grind, to rub and to bodily beg for more.

Alfred wanted Ivan to touch him so bad. He needed it, but he wouldn't say it and despite his best hints Ivan was lost in concentrating on holding him spread and sinking deeper into his hole. Alfred simply couldn't touch himself, he'd risk losing his secured balance from his grip on the wall and shower door. So he whined to himself and pressed back more, hoping that Ivan's cock alone would get him to finish.

Even when Ivan picked up pace Alfred knew it wouldn't be enough. He needed to be touched so badly. The warm water of his throbbing hot cock was killing him. He needed pressure, he needed a squeeze, he—

"Ivan!" Alfred gasped. The sound of his name echoed throughout the room and he felt the Russian pause a little in his thrusts when he heard his name come out of him for the first time that night. Alfred didn't care anymore, simply didn't. "I-Ivan, touch me! Touch me, please!" Alfred threw his head back with a moan when Ivan slapped his hips against him quite hard and, mmmmm, did it strike dead on against Alfred's prostrate.

No sooner had Alfred begged for this had his wish been granted. His blue eyes looked down to take in the sight of Ivan's large hand wrapping around him, squeezing him at the base before pulling at his skin with pressuring pumps. Now Alfred began bucking his hips into that hand while also grinding back onto the cock he was impaled on.

He was hurting, Alfred knew that much, but damn was he sailing on cloud nine. He was so close to his peek that he could feel himself visibly smiling in anticipation for it. He hadn't known when the hand balancing against the shower door left, but he hadn't fallen over because that hand wrapped its fingers into Ivan's hair behind him and pulled and pulled until he could turn his head and kiss those panting lips.

This kiss was the first Alfred had ever initiated leaving Ivan gapping and wide-eyed. Thank God the shock wore off soon because Ivan pressing back against him and shoving his tongue into his mouth was what finally brought Alfred over the edge. To his surprise he splattered his semen all over the front of the shower—he hadn't known he had that much left in him.

And when his orgasm rocked through him his muscles clenched and gave a reason for Ivan's cock to follow Alfred's in suit. Alfred jumped at the feel of Ivan orgasm inside him, especially at the feel of the amount. Alfred moaned when he felt the cum drip out past Ivan's cock and hummed when he and his husband came down from euphoria together just remaining still and panting in the other's mouth.

When Ivan's hand reached up and caressed the side of Alfred's face the American really didn't know if he was tired or actually willingly rubbing his cheek into the Russian's palm. He decided not to put too much thought into it because the kiss following was sweet and so very full of love.

They ended up falling asleep wet and naked after their failed shower. Alfred nor Ivan had ever slept so soundly since their disastrous turning point in their marital relationship years ago.

Alfred hadn't been too sure on how long he had slept but he woke up feeling groggy and still too tired to remain awake for long. He would have just laid his head down and closed his eyes again for some much needed recuperation hadn't an important thought pushed itself into the forefront of his mind.

"ALEX!" Alfred gasped. After suddenly remembering his child he shot up in bed. Immediately he regretted his rashness and fell back down. Talk about sore!

Didn't matter though. Fuck the pain! This was his child he was talking about. He needed to know if he was okay and . . . oh God what if he had gotten worse while he was sleeping or . . . no, no, he just needed to check on him.

Alfred sat up again, gritting his teeth at the excruciating pain—he didn't remember feeling this sore in years. It wasn't just his ass that was sore, but his arms, fingers, legs, damn even his jaw hurt just to move. He looked toward the bedroom door and suddenly it seemed so far away. He knew he couldn't make it over there and so he whined and fell back onto the bed. He was ready to call out to a servant when the door opened.

Alfred's head shot up. His eyes widened at the sight of Ivan entering, more so at who he was carrying in his arms. It was Alexei. The little boy was still in his pajamas, his face buried into Ivan's shoulder.

"Look who's up, Alexei," Ivan whispered to the child in his arms. His smile seemed endearing and Alfred wondered if Ivan held any sort of feeling for the little guy. By the way he was holding him and that softer look in his gaze Alfred would have to say, "yes."

Alfred's heart melted when he watched the boy turn his face to him. He looked tired but he looked better and finally Alfred could sigh out in relief.

"Daddy," Alexei muttered while Ivan walked closer to Alfred who quickly pulled the covers back over his lower regions for the decency of his child.

"Hey, big guy, you're all better." Alfred reached out and ran his fingers through the boy's hair. Alexei had just a lighter shade of his own hair as well as the same color of his eyes—everywhere else screamed Ivan. "Who's my little fighter, huh?"

Alfred's heart melted at the sight of his little boy smiling. It was a sure sign he was getting better.

"He's still a little hot, but the doctor said he'll recover fully within a day," Ivan mentioned while leaning down to meet Alfred at eyelevel. "We just need to get him fed and watered and bathed. I was going to start with the last. Care to join us?"

A warm bath in their large whirlpool hot tub was just what Alfred needed for his stiff joints. He would have loved to play battleship with Alexei in the water but he was just too sore and so he sat nearby just simply watching. The soft smile ever present on his face despite the surprise in seeing Ivan play with his son. Alfred's never before felt like they had been a family—a mock rendition perhaps, but not a real one. Right now though, it sure felt like it.

Ivan had the boy seated on his lap, both holding toy floating ships and acting as if they were attacking the other. Alexei squealed a few times and splashed his arms around but other than that Alfred could tell he was still a little under the weather. He couldn't wait for the day when his baby was back to a hundred percent.

Alfred jumped forward, his heart racing at the sight of Ivan picking the boy up in his arms and crying out his ship had sunk and rightfully so should the captain go down too. He dunked the child under the bubbling waters and gave Alfred quite a quick scare before Ivan pulled him back out of the waters shortly after with the boy giggling in his arms and splashing more water at his papa. Alfred's nerves settled afterwards and he leaned back, keeping a close eye on the jesting two.

What was Alfred thinking in the first place? Ivan, getting rid of Alexei? Killing his own son? No, not after all the trouble he went through to get him. Plus, Alexei was heir to all of Ivan's fortune and gang-laced empire. He was important to the Braginsky name.

Alfred's frown deepened. Just when he thought his child was safe he had to remember that the boy's father was a mob boss and that when he passed . . . well . . . it all went to Alexei next. The mere thought of his boy turning out like Ivan frightened Alfred. He didn't want that for him. Not at all.

"Papa, no, no!" Alexei squealed when Ivan tried dunking him into the waters again.

"But you are not dead. As captain you must go down with your ship," Ivan explained and attempted to dunk the boy. Alexei simply resisted and flailed through his laughter. "If you kiss me you can come back to life. Come on, give your papa a kiss."

Alexei was quick to be saved from the waters and gave Ivan a sweet kiss on the lips. It was a sweet scene and Alfred smiled at that.

When Alexei pulled away he pouted his lips almost the same way Alfred did. "Am I alive now, papa?" he asked innocently.

Ivan smiled at him before his eyes glanced over toward Alfred. He smiled and then turned back to his son and said, "Not until you give daddy a kiss as well."

Alexei nodded his head and held onto Ivan who leaned over and held the boy out to his other parent. Alfred chuckled and pursed his lips, letting his little man plant a kiss on his mouth before Ivan pulled him away.

"There now, you are back among the living," Ivan declared.

"Yaaay!" And off Alexei went, pushing himself out of Ivan's lap and swimming over toward his other floating toys.

Ivan smiled at the boy, watching him for a moment or two before turning his gaze back toward his husband. Alfred tried to keep his attention on his son but when Ivan slid himself closer and rubbing his hands upon him it was a little hard. So, Alfred sighed and looked up at Ivan who looked slightly concerned for his state in the present.

"How are you feeling? Still sore?" Ivan asked.

Alfred only hummed his response, pressing back into the soothing motion of the bubbles against his spine. His gaze left that of Alexei's playing manner for a while to glance at his husband. "You don't look the least affected."

Ivan chuckled and Alfred could feel his hand slipping against the small of his back, rubbing gently. He was now sitting right next to him with his arms practically wrapped around him. When Ivan leaned down his breath tickled Alfred's ear. "I am plenty sore, dorogoy. An ever pleasant reminder of the one I love."

Alfred groaned out a moan when Ivan leaned his head further and place a kiss against his hickey-laden neck. He sighed when Ivan pulled away and leaned his cheek against the top of his head, now both parents watching their child splash around to prove his recovery.

So many thoughts were going off in Alfred's mind right then. Firstly had to be that of his relationship with Ivan. He wondered if they were going to go back to how they were—before his affair. He wasn't quite sure what he thought about that but all too soon the thoughts of his child came to mind just as the little boy let out a cough and gave up on his toys if only to swim over to his daddy and sit himself on his lap to rest peacefully.

Alfred was going to run his fingers through his hair like he usually did if Ivan hadn't beaten him to it. It was strange, because he knew Ivan hated kids—perhaps Alexei was a different case entirely. So, Alfred just wrapped his arm around his boy's waist and held him close against his chest.

"It won't be long before he starts school, da?" Alfred heard Ivan think out loud. The American nodded in agreement, now his thoughts going to how Alexei was going to be schooled. Sometimes Alfred wondered if Ivan could read his mind, he sure spoke about things he was on the same wave-length as. "I want him homeschooled first. I will send for tutors and when he is big enough he will be presented." Alfred was certain Ivan was speaking about Alexei being shown off to his "friends" like he had been shown off years ago when he and Ivan were dating. "He'll be sent to a good boarding school in Moscow. It is where I learned many good things." Alfred swallowed, he didn't like the idea of sending his child away for so long with no one to protect him but supposedly loyal lackeys. "When he graduates he will go to a prestigious college and make the Braginsky name proud. I know he will."

If Alexei hadn't existed then Alfred had contemplated on just running—to see how far he got. Now that the boy was very much a part of his life he felt it his duty to stay, to try to train into him some good so the bad blood of the Braginskys didn't come out. Alfred was afraid of that the most—afraid of his little baby turning into a murderer like his papa and predecessors.

Fifteen more years was a good number to stay, only until Alexei became an adult and could make reasonable decisions for himself.

Alfred felt Ivan shift beside him, he pinched his chin and turned him to him. When Alfred looked into those violet eyes the man smiled. When he leaned down and kissed him all previous thoughts and plans devised in Alfred's mind were wiped clean.

He might stay longer than fifteen years.

When Alfred felt Ivan move again he noticed him touching his hand, raising it and splaying his fingers before he slid something onto his finger. Alfred pulled away and opened his eyes to look and see that Ivan had slipped on his old wedding band—he remembered throwing this worthless thing at Ivan during a large heated argument early on in the stages of their crumbling relationship some five plus years ago. He watched Ivan take his hand and bring it to his mouth, kissing the golden studded band before smiling and pressing his hand against his cheek affectionately.

Ivan then leaned over again, taking Alfred's lips with his own and kissing him deep with little Alexei resting against the American's chest.

Yeah. Alfred was probably going to be staying with Ivan for a long time.


End file.
